


Who We Are

by Eirenei



Series: Scrapbook Jewels [40]
Category: Fate/Zero, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU-verse, M/M, Mages are cool, Wizarding-world bashing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-29
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-04-23 16:22:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 84,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4883635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eirenei/pseuds/Eirenei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Triwizard Tournament was full of tales of glory, gore, despair, deceit and triumph. A battlefield for the best of the best, the cream of the crop. Well, not anymore. Because one small slip of paper had ensured the Champions would be confronted with the most dangerous pair of the fourth Holy Grail War.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t Harry Potter, nor do I own Fate/Zero. If I did, then I wouldn’t be writing fanfiction. Though, I do own this little story.  
> Summary: Triwizard Tournament was full of tales of glory, gore, despair, deceit and triumph. A battlefield for the best of the best, the cream of the crop. Well, not anymore. Because one small slip of paper had ensured the Champions would be confronted with the most dangerous pair of the fourth Holy Grail War. 
> 
> Shout Out: Promise is a promise, so I am releasing the first beta-ed part of Who We Are. I am giving my heartfelt thanks to Luna13 who is the Queen of Beta-ing of this monster. All the (purposefully, might I add) failed frenchisms are also her work, as I wanted to incorporate the legitimate French-flavored butchering of Queen’s English in the story. And she delivered marvelously! 
> 
> As for everything else - Fire And Ice is officially in works, hopefully I will manage to update it either in the first or second week in October. This is also official closing of Scrapbook Jewels. Thank you for sticking with me on this long ride through different universes and I hope you will join me on the journey when I expand on the stories written herein. 
> 
> Warnings: AU-verse. You already knew that. SLASH - yeah, you also knew that - but I repeat, SLASH, meaning male/male pairing, and mentions of bloodshed . The following warnings will be included as the story progresses, When the next chapter comes out of beta-ing, the story will be posted separately on my account here, so you will get double notice - for this, and the new chapter.  
> 

* * *

Humans have always been competitive. It was a necessity at first; survival of the fittest wasn't just a phrase, but a cruel reality.  People were born into the cold world without sharp teeth, claws or armor; and neither did they have wings or fins or warm fur or thick hide. They had nothing. By all accounts, they should have perished in droves, because surely, such a weak species was only an affront to the mightiest of the Nature's laws - the law of the strongest.

However, it wasn't so. The first humans weren't born with weapons or any appropriate defense against predators. Instead,  they’ve learned   to use whatever was at hand – be it a sharp stick, fire, half-eaten cadaver, hides of dead animals  or parts of poisonous plants. Slowly, but surely, they began to fight back, and then, they discovered metal and how to shape and wield it.

From then on, it was only a question of time when a Man would conquer the land. From South to North, and from West to East, they climbed the highest of the mountain peaks and discovered the deepest depths of the oceans. They survived in the harshest of deserts and walked through the wildest of the jungles that were filled with the most poisonous animals.

Finally, the only worthy competitor against a Man was his fellow Man. Thus, the skirmishes and wars began - each more intricate, more deceitful, more bloody and forceful, with more people and deadlier weapons. Armies have risen and fallen, and legends have appeared and drowned in the waves of rhymes and history.

But wars were pricy.  And so, a Man had thought up a game, where only the strongest, most cunning and fastest was proclaimed and then lauded a winner. The game had evolved to other fields – the sports, the arts of singing, dancing and all other kinds, but people still wanted, yearned for something exciting, a game where the winner would victoriously roar among the crowd's accolades while the loser would pay with his honor and oftentimes, life. Wizards were no different. Thus, the Triwizard Tournament was born, its history soaked in blood, honor, deceit and tragedy. So dangerous that it had been prohibited, and yet, by some miracle or folly, the Wizards decided to resurrect it.

This time, the chosen school to host the acclaimed and much-lauded Tournament was Hogwarts. However, because the Tournament was so dangerous, the officials had decided that this time, there won't be just one champion representing a school, but a pair. So they announced that the prospective pairs had to write their names on the same piece of the paper and then drop it into the Goblet. Students were forbidden to form pairs with multiple partners to facilitate the fair choice of the Champions. The other clause was that nobody under the age of 17 was allowed to compete. Even if the danger was lessened by competing in pairs that still didn't mean they would allow any students under the age line to compete, no matter how accomplished they may have been.

This evening was special. It was the evening when the Goblet of Fire would choose the pairs that would hopefully bring the glory to their respective schools.

The Great Hall was illuminated with a mellow light of the lit candles and the sky was twinkling with small white stars on a deep velvet background. There was an excited murmuring between the students, questions, answers and speculations blending into an incomprehensible noise that was silenced when Dumbledore stood up.

Headmaster Dumbledore was an old man, with twinkling blue eyes behind sliver- rimmed half-moon glasses and long white beard and hair, clothed in a vibrant robe that raised questions whether the man had any fashion sense or was he just color blind.

Blue eyes looked over the gathered students and their teachers kindly. “I know you all know why we are here and impatient to find out which pair among you will bear the glory of being the Champions of the Triwizard Tournament. So, without further ado, we shall begin.” The glasses reflected the blue flames of the Goblet as centenarian wizard approached it stopping by its side as to wait for something.

The bluish white flames surged upward, spitting up a piece of a parchment that was caught in the old wizard’s aged hand.

“The first pair is from Durmstrang….are Viktor Krum and Jevgeniy Makarov!” The old sorcerer’s voice was followed by the cheers from the students, the loudest of ones coming from the Slytherin table, from the group of darkly clothed students with stern faces, clad in fur-edged cloaks.

“Second pair hailing from Beauxbatons is…Fleur Delacour and Violette de la Fére!” This time, the cheers were louder, coming mostly from the male population, cheering on the two most beautiful witches in the school. The Sun and the Moon - flaxen-haired Fleur with her sky blue eyes and Violet, with her mysterious dark violet eyes and raven tresses bound into a heavy braid that wrapped around her head, making her seem like a Queen of the Night. However, the two female champions only exchanged polite nods before accepting the congratulations of their peers.

“Third and last pair is from our very own Hogwarts…are Cedric Diggory and Cho Chang!” There were whistles and roars, with chanting of their champion’s name from the Hufflepuff table, along with the Ravenclaw one - in contrast with the two, Gryffindors were a little bit quieter, while the Slytherins were completely silent, only offering a half-hearted clap or two, barely holding back not to sniff disdainfully at the lovey-dovey pair.

“And with that, I congratulate our Champions and – “ Dumbledore was interrupted by the Goblet glowing, but this time, the color changed from blue to red, and as if they were transfixed, all the eyes followed the small scrap of the paper that fluttered upward like an ill omen.

Hesitantly, Dumbledore touched it, and upon touching, the reddish glow of the cup was slowly changing into the golden one…

“…. Harry Potter.”

A scant moment after Dumbledore had spoken out those fated words, there was a flash of golden light, so bright it practically blinded the witnesses and with a deafening bang, something has fallen in front of the Goblet, which was now dark and smoking, as if it had been somehow overcharged.

There, on the ground, laid two male forms, clad in black and coated with dark red liquid –one black – haired one and another with brown hair, both unconscious and bleeding.

There were gasps and shrieks of shock. “Wat juste appen Dumblydoor?” Madame Maxime demanded, glaring at the blue-eyed old man. “Didn’t you say ze Cup vas safe from tamperin’”

“Of course I did.” Dumbledore said, just as serious. “Though I don’t know how that could’ve happened …because Harry Potter definitely doesn’t attend this school.”

“ _What_ did you say!?” Karkaroff, a man of a thin, cruel face and dark eyes, jumped up, glaring at Hogwarts’ Headmaster. “So who is that green-eyed brat at the Gryffindor table, then?” He pointed at the said ‘brat’ accusingly, making the mentioned boy flinch and shrink under baffled and angry eyes.

“Obviously he isn’t Potter.” A dour, sallow-faced man sneered sourly, his eyes thoughtful. “Now, if you don’t mind, we have to take care of the two brats here.” He brusquely waved at the still unconscious and blood-caked heap in front of the Goblet disdainfully.

The evening had ended with more questions than the answers – one Harry Potter was now called a liar and a traitor, who somehow managed to usurp the Hogwarts’ Golden Couple’s glory, and both Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were truly merciless in their remarks, with Slytherins right after them, while Gryffindors were torn between believing the boy and celebrating the unexpected chance to win the Cup.

* * *

 

The two teens were a mystery. Madam Poppy Pomfrey had managed to liberate them of their things – strange T-shaped red hilts, an old, harmless, but well-cared gun and a handful of brass colored cartridge cases topped with copper-shaded tips. The only dangerous things the messy-haired boy had was an army knife and a pair of grenades. Poppy shuddered at the thought what could have happened if she hadn’t known just what those round balls with the steel fuse were. So simple and elegant and seemingly completely harmless… if her Uncle Red hadn’t shown her just what could those little babies actually do, she could’ve ignorantly blown up the entire hospital wing! Though, the question remained, just what were those two boys doing to possess such dangerous things! She glared at her two currently unconscious patients disapprovingly.

The duo possessed strange wounds. The brown-haired one was harmed less in comparison with his wild-haired companion. The only notable wounds were the bullet wound in his arm – somehow, the bullet had entered on the outer side of the palm, and then traveled along the bones across the wrist and exited at the elbow, practically destroying the muscles veins and bone here. Madam Pomfrey shuddered. She had seen many wounds, but this one was monstrous. The boy would heal, but his use of the arm would be severely hampered… Just what kind of weapon could do such an amount of damage?

The wild-haired one’s state was more serious. Broken ribs, an almost torn apart heart, burned out muscles and torn ligaments – how in Merlin’s holy name was the boy still alive? The wounds he had received should have killed any ordinary mortal, and last she checked, the boy was a human, and what was worse, a Muggle!

She shook her head disbelievingly - this has gone against everything and anything she had been taught either in Hogwarts or St. Mungo’s. However, that raised concern on just how would the two boys even fight in the Tournament – Dumbledore had confirmed that the brown-haired boy who arrived via the Goblet’s prompting was in fact the true Harry James Potter, even if he did have some kind of Japanese sounding name.

She was brought out of her musings by a strangled gasp from the throat of the patient she had been pondering about just a moment ago. Hurriedly, she began to cast diagnostic charms and to her great astonishment, his state was drastically better than it was when he had been brought in. Dark orbs looked around woozily, before the boy flinched and hissed out a pained sound while clutching his right forearm. Alarmed, Poppy tugged the offending sleeve up, only to gasp in astonishment when she saw the intricate dark lines forming themselves over the pale expanse of the skin in jagged, and yet smooth black lines. The process was so fast Pomfrey almost overlooked that it had to be painful, until the dark-haired boy - she still didn’t know his name, dammit – covered the thing with the other hand and groaned with pain, the sound not repeated by his still unconscious companion.

“Um - don’t cover it, I will get you something for pain!” She babbled as she fluttered around the bed to fetch the cream, making the dark, pain-filled eyes glare at her half-heartedly.

“Where am I?” The boy asked, and an instant later, his eyes widened slightly at the unfamiliar surroundings before they narrowed again. The hand that was previously clutching at the just-tattooed arm flew up to his neck as if checking for something.

Pomfrey finally found the balm. “You are at the Hogwarts, School for Witchraft and Wizardry. You have been drafted to compete in Triwizard Tournament.” She explained succinctly as she opened the small crystal dose. “Now give me the hand to treat it – “

\- And facing the muzzle of the ancient gun Pomfrey was sure he didn’t have on his person a moment before. “Not trusting you. Who are you and how did you manage to drag me out of the Grail War?”

Poppy Pomfrey wasn’t a woman to be easily intimidated, but one single look from those impassive, dead eyes made her shiver with unease.

This boy - no, young man, could and would use the gun and not feel the remorse about it.

Suddenly, the nurse felt a rush of pity and terror for the youth’s fellow Champions. If that was just a companion of Harry Potter, then the real deal had to be terrible, indeed.

Swallowing the dread, she began to explain.

* * *

 

‘This is going to be one giant clusterfuck.’ Kiritsugu Emiya inwardly grimaced as he assessed the situation. Not bigger, but more of a clusterfuck than the Grail War had been. Of course he knew about the Wizarding world - any self-respecting Magus did, and he had no doubt the Church bastards were just as aware of the wand-waving, cloak-wearing and broom-riding jokesters. The said jokesters just weren’t important enough to gain any great measure of attention - the Church had enough to deal with its inner schisms, demons, dimension rifts and the like. Though there had been one notable exception, once back in 1945’s, when they were called in to curb some idiot, called Grindelwald. Not directly, no, and Kiritsugu wasn’t sure of the specifics but the whole affair had been beyond messy and the Wizarding world was almost exposed right then and there, thus need for intervention from the Church’s side. Clock Tower didn’t give a damn about the wand-wavers - they were simply too weak, and besides, there was the pursuit of Root of Akasha to consider. Between keeping an eye on the backward lemming people that was Wizarding Britain and researching the ways to Akasha, it was a no-brainer which one of them would the Clock Tower’s Magi rather been doing.

The existence of Wizarding world was an open, painfully glaring secret metaphorically clothed in blinding orange with neon green polka dots to the ones in know-how. No subtlety at all. The Church did cease the inquisition practice, if only because they were tired of the same dance and game - honestly, did Wizards really think they wouldn’t have - excuse the pun – wizened up to their little tricks? And with the Wizards being so back behind the times, they really didn’t merit more than an occasional footnote or two. Clock Tower and Magi in general were complete secret from the wand-brats and for a good reason too. No wizard or witch survived the - usually hostile - contact with a Magus. And there were no traces after the ‘confrontations’, along with the Magi successfully blending among the crowds of normal people, so trying to find an offending Magus was just like searching for a needle in an enormous haystack – troublesome and chancing upon one was mostly written up to a pure dumb luck.

Rubbing the bridge of his nose, the assassin frowned tiredly. One moment he was fighting against that damned priest for the Grail, when the ceiling exploded, then the feeling of being squeezed through the straw and finally, the blessed darkness. He made a grimace at the memory of the transport. Now he had an intimate knowledge of just how meat going through the grinder felt. He just thanked the heavens for having enough of a foresight to have Avalon in his body, and even more so, for the wand-wavers being stupid enough not to detect the artifact. He dragged his palm down across his nose to his chin and grimaced at the feeling of smooth chin.

Seventeen. Again. Just wonderful. He mouthed out a muffled expletive.

Not only a day here and he already hated the damned stick-wavers.

Dark eyes looked at the prone body still sleeping in the bed on his left side. All because some idiot had a bright idea to enter that damned priest under his real name into the tournament.

The moment he’ll find the culprit, Kiritsugu swore he would use the bastard to ‘practice’ some more unethical ‘questioning methods’ on him. And maybe invite Kirei to join in the fun. Because if nothing else, the priest, who was also an ex-Executor, had to be a treasure trove of ideas on the subject.

The messy-haired Magus Killer exhaled, sorely wishing for a cigarette to calm his frazzled nerves.

This time, failure was not an option.

* * *

 He trembled. Since that fateful evening, everything had gone downhill - from his peaceful life, to his friends and finally his identity. He was still Harry Potter, just for convenience sake, but did he really have any right to call that name his own? He was now being ostracized for something that he didn’t have any powers or influence over. While it was a relief to get free form the strain of such a pressure, it also damned him with the feeling of solitude.

Ron didn’t want to do anything with him when he found out that Harry wasn’t the ‘Boy Who Lived’ anymore, and Hermione… well, she was just awkward. Other people were even worse - they still called him by that name, but he saw the doubt in their eyes, it was like being observed and being judged by total strangers. That shouldn’t have hurt him, but it did.

Even Ginny and Colin were avoiding him. He had saved Ginny, didn’t he? He didn’t have to be a Boy Who Lived for that had he?

He curled under the covers, thinking about the two strangers that appeared in the Great Hall. Both of them covered in bloodied and torn clothes, they fell right in front of the Goblet, lying there motionlessly, until the teachers surged forward to rush the duo to the hospital wing.

He flinched as the twinge of pain throbbed in the back of his skull. Hissing out a curse, he wished he would have had something for a headache - he couldn’t concentrate on the schoolwork like usual, when he had evil little trolls pounding  with their enormous hammers at his brain. Lately, he felt more agitated, more snappish thus further alienating his friends from him.

He was _Harry Potter_ , dammit!

Scowling, he rubbed at the bleeding scar on his forehead.

Only, he wasn’t.

He didn’t know whether to be relieved or angry about it.

Closing his eyes, he settled in for a restless sleep.

* * *

 Kirei Kotomine was not a happy camper. While it was a welcome respite from the Grail War he didn’t appreciate the way the respite in question came to be, and even less of the fact he apparently had to cooperate with Kiritsugu of all people to win the damned tournament before they could be allowed to return back to where they came from.

If Risei Kotomine had been alive, Kirei had no doubt the old man would have had his head for this. Father Risei didn’t make any secret of what he thought about the wand-wavers, and being caught unaware by them was just pathetic and unworthy of the youngest ever Executor.

He glanced at his left forearm, where the stylized black wing replaced his Command seals. The wing was more reminiscent of a spider’s legs mixed with thorns, looking dangerous even in its simplicity. Kiritsugu's Command seals on his right hand had also vanished. He also managed to catch a glimpse of the self-same seals on the other man's forearm before he covered it while scowling at him.

He also felt the thrumming of the bond between them – it was just there, so similar and yet so very different from the Master-Servant bond, that it momentarily left him mentally flailing before he managed to regain his composure. His body was on the mend - a little bit faster than usual, much to the nurse’s astonishment, but Kirei was always a quick healer so to him, this was nothing new. What unsettled him was that feeling of hollowness in the right hand - the one he blocked Kiritsugu’s shot with – it wasn’t weaker, but it felt hollow, as if it wasn’t there anymore in a sense. And he still had to contend with that annoying buzz in the back of his head. Not quite of a headache, but close to it.

At least he still had his weapons. Twenty Black Keys total, thirteen Command Seals on his right forearm - Kirei doubted they would be useful, what with the Goblet of Fire practically nullifying the connection to his Servant, but maybe, with a little bit of tweaking? His clothes were thankfully still here, squeaky clean and ready for him to don them on - Kirei felt an irrational relief about keeping his attire, but in his defense, It was a justifiable concern – one could never be careful enough with Kiritsugu Emiya around.  Those who had gone against the man invariably ended up dead, and if it weren’t for the interruption of their fight, Kirei would’ve joined these numbers too.

Their fight had been _glorious._ Dark eyes lowered to half-mast when he reminisced about it. The man was well-deserved of his title Magus Killer.  Hadn’t they been interrupted by that glorified glowing Cup of doom, Kirei had no doubt he would have been in a fight for his life.  May still be fighting notwithstanding the fact they would now be partner in the Tournament. And if he found out just whose bright idea was to get the two of them into that mockery of a Tournament…the fool would pay. But on the other side, it would be an interesting experience, and maybe, just maybe, he could find out just what was that force that drove his unwilling partner to such terrifying heights. And find his own answers -

“Mister Potter?” A woman’s voice interrupted his musings, making dead brown eyes look up at the hospital matron. “Headmaster Dumbledore wishes to speak with you.”

Kirei blinked. “You must be mistaken.” He replied, his voice dull. “My name is Kotomine Kirei.” The matron narrowed her eyes, a snappish retort on her lips but she held back. “Mister Kirei then.” She said curtly and then whirled around and stomped out of the room, muttering and grumbling under her breath, however Kirei still noticed her back being tense, as if she was wary of being attacked.

‘My, my. For a nurse, she has good instincts.’ He pondered before his eyes caught an old man in an eye-watering blue robe with neon orange and puke green little stars twinkling through.

“Hello, dear boy.” The Headmaster smiled at him, and for some reason, Kirei felt as if he were in front of Father Risei again. It lasted only  a moment, before his eyes concentrated on those twinkling blue orbs behind the half-moon glasses.

“Headmaster.” A simple acknowledgement. No need to give out more information than needed. The old man smiled benignly and if Kirei were of a sarcastic sort, he would go as far as seeing the background of pretty flowers behind the man’s head. But he was a dull Church boy, even if he was one of the top Executors, so the old man’s antics didn’t have any influence on him. “You wanted to talk to me.” Kirei said calmly.

“Ah, yes. But before we begin, could you tell me where have you been those fourteen years?” The man prodded for the answers gently.

“Here and there.” Kirei replied noncommittally while calculating the best angle to kill the man. “Last known location was city of Fuyuki. Why did you deign to summon us into that Tournament?”

Dumbledore’s smile became a little forced. “This was the Goblet of Fire doings.You see, this year Hogwarts is hosting the Triwizard Tournament, and the competitors are chosen in pairs via the Goblet of Fire which acts like an impartial judge.”

Blank brown eyes narrowed thoughtfully. _‘A Lesser Grail? But how - ‘_

“The Tournament was revived to strengthen the bonds between the schools and to showcase the best and brightest of the Wizarding world.” The old man paused as he stroked his beard thoughtfully before he sat down on the chair beside the bed. “Somehow, you were summoned under the name of Harry Potter.”

“How do you know that?” Kirei inquired. Not that it wasn’t possible, he had known from the very early age that he had been adopted, but the whole story still sounded like something a juvenile Clock Tower student would pull… or one particular master of Kaleidoscope.

* * *

 (Somewhere, Zelretch sneezed.)

* * *

 

“We checked.” This was an ambiguous answer and a dangerous one, at any rate.

“Checked how? I didn’t have any papers on myself. The summoning could be a fluke.” Kirei countered logically. Something was fishy about that, and he intended to find out just what it was.

The wizened old man sighed. “The piece of paper had only your name on it. Not the name of your partner, however a moment after your name was called out, both of you appeared in front of the Goblet. Shocked us right out of our seats.” He let out a good-natured chuckle, but Kirei was undeterred.

“Why would a piece of paper with my name written on it have the power to summon me?” He persisted. He knew about the Summoning Rituals, it was practically mandatory in his line of work, both as an Executor and a Master in the Grail War, but still, being Summoned just because of a single scrap of paper with his old name being scrawled on, was a bit far-fetched even for him. “As far as I know, nobody could get a hold of my signature.”

The old wizard sighed and seemed to age in front of Kirei’s eyes. “Regrettably, this I don’t know how it happened. However, what happened is that the Goblet was supposed to choose six participants, two for each school. Nobody expected someone to be clever enough to hoodwink the artifact into choosing an additional pair of competitors.”

Kirei could think of at least two culprits who definitely could, but decided to keep mum on the subject. He wasn’t insane enough to deal with either the Church or Clock Tower’s darkest and dirtiest secrets. “Could you break the contracts?” Kirei asked, only for the old man to shake his head regretfully.

“If I could, I would, my boy. However, you and your partner fit the requirements – “- if Kirei were a cynical sort of a person, he would have snorted at the irony of that statement, because neither of them was fit for those kiddy games – “- but as it stands, both of you have to participate or lose your magic.” The man concluded, bright blue eyes darkening a smidge as the man pushed his half-moon spectacles higher up his nose, the glass glinting ominously in the half-light.

Kirei’s face didn’t change at the unwelcome bit of news. “What are the rules?” He asked, his voice flat, surprising the old wizard. “You don’t dispute your involvement?” Dumbledore asked shrewdly, eyeing the youth suspiciously, only for those emotionless brown eyes stare back into his own twinkling orbs unflinchingly. “It would be a moot point.” Kirei replied his voice slow and measured. “You yourself admitted my recall was fairly foolproof if not unusual – “ ‘ _\- especially with involvement of the Lesser Grail, - ’_ Kirei thought privately, as his eyes lowered momentarily, before he looked at the old man again, “ - so our only choice is to compete and perchance win the Tournament.”

A moment of silence passed, before the wizard shifted. “You are unexpectedly mature about this, Harry.” The wizard finally replied, his aged face stretching into a grandfatherly smile.

“I would prefer to be addressed as Kotomine Kirei.” Kirei replied flatly. “Even if I was summoned under my own supposed name, I would be more comfortable if you would call me by my current name.” An awkward took place between them. It was obvious that the old wizard was visibly trying to gather his scattered wits. Finally, he emitted a clumsy cough. “Ah, so. Then I will call you Kirei, if I may.” He offered, white eyebrows furrowing with discomfort and immediately smoothing themselves out. “So, Kirei, the Triwizard Tournament is an event, made out of three different tasks, all of them done by three champions from three schools - Durmstrang, Beauxbatons and our very own Hogwarts. However, because of the high death toll involved with completing the tasks it was decided that this time the Champions would compete in pairs, one for each school. You and your companion are actually the fourth pair, so we will have to adjust the tasks accordingly.” Kirei nodded, up until now everything had made a perfect sense. If he was honest, he had to admit he was a little bit fascinated, because even  as much info that the Church had on the Wizarding world, the Triwizard Tournament was only mentioned in passing.

“So we only have to compete in the tasks and complete them to the best of our abilities?” Kirei inquired politely. He could’ve worded it a bit differently, but there was no need to tip his hand too early - he had seen what that kind of strategy had done for the other masters in the Grail War he had battled against. And assuming they had to deal with another Kiritsugu-caliber of character here…well, it was better safe than sorry. Dumbledore nodded slowly. “Yes. You all will be judged by a panel of judges - the three Headmasters, the Ministry’s representative, and the Head of Department of Magical Games and Sports. The tasks themselves will be revealed on the day of the competition.” Kirei lowered his eyes slightly while he was thinking furiously.

This was similar to Grail War, and yet, completely unlike it, Kirei concluded. Even if there were some similarities, he didn’t expect it to be as cutthroat as the games of Magi or the Church were. Along with them having been practically given the proverbial carte blanche on what or how to do things…

“How are we judged and what is the final prize?” He finally asked, eyeing the now faintly dismayed face of the Hogwarts’ Headmaster. “I didn’t think you to be so greedy, my boy.” The wizened wizard admonished him slightly as he frowned at him with disappointment. Kirei wanted to shake his head at the man’s patronizing tone. “We were the ones that were unwillingly dragged into this farce of a competition. It’s only sensible to have all available information for the perusal.” He retorted, his voice a bit sharp with irritation at the wizard’s idiocy. Dumbledore stared at him, and then sighed. “I apologize. That was uncalled for. So, the judges rate the competitors by points - ten at most and zero at least. How many the competitors receive, depends on their performance in the event. The task is won by the pair with the most points, and consequently, the tournament is won by the pair who had accumulated the greatest amount of points in the long run. As for the prize, it’s the glory of being the Champion and a thousand galleons for the winning pair.”

Kirei tilted his head. The prize part was a bit lacking - he was disappointed in hearing that only a monetary award was available, what with them being summoned by a Lesser Grail of all things. Fame, he could’ve done without. If he wanted to be famous, he would’ve gone through some of the more visible routes in the Church hierarchy. If they had offered a chance of his questions being answered, it would’ve been a different story, but with this…meager prize, his interest deflated. However, at least those galleons would be helpful in funding their trip back to Fuyuki.

“Disappointing.” He murmured to himself as he looked through the window and consequently missed the aged blue eyes narrowing at him. “So when will the first task occur?”

* * *

 Dumbledore didn’t know what to make out of this strange young man. On one side, he sincerely hoped that this was the true Harry Potter - it would explain all the inconsistencies that happened since the young Harry entered Hogwarts. And yet, on the other side, he didn’t want this dull-eyed youth to be the prophesized Savior of the Wizarding world. It was like looking at Tom when he had been young – handsome, charismatic and capable, but in contrast with the young Voldemort this Kirei fellow had eyes that were absolutely unreadable. As if he was a marionette of some grand master to use in an elaborate play. If that wasn’t a worrying thought, there was also his companion, that wild-haired boy. At first glance, Dumbledore had thought that his wild black hair surely was the Potter mark, however much to his surprise; the spell had curved to the plain brown-haired teen. And there was also the question of the young man’s injuries – they’ve been healing unnaturally fast, much to Poppy’s astonishment. Those dark, flat black eyes were so similar to the brown ones that it actually chilled Dumbledore to the bones. He had seen that kind of eyes, on the faces of Grindewald’s elite group of Wizards and witches. And even if there was a difference in the color - gray and ice blue along with a very pale green, they all had that cold icy sheen of death, as if their opponent didn’t matter. However, what could a pair of Squibs do, anyway? They would be outclassed, outmatched and outgunned. Dismissing the uncomfortable feeling in his gut, Dumbledore smiled.

“As you came here, you will be placed in the dorm with seventh year Gryffindors, I’m sure you will be going along with them well – “

“The _hell_ we will.” A cold voice interrupted the old Headmaster, making their heads whip around to the side the said voice came from.

And what do you know - talk about a devil and devil appears - it was the wild-haired youth in person. He was clad in a drab hospital gown that hung from his lanky frame, hair wild as ever, even if a mite bit longer than usual, and his youthful face gaunt with weariness, irritation and sleepless nights as he sat on his bed, the legs folded awkwardly. Whatever healed him, Kirei pondered, it didn’t do a whit about his insomniac look. Somehow, Emiya’s darkly foreboding looks were lost within that innocent gray gown, making him appear as harmless as a small, grumpy, kitten. Kirei frowned at the tickling feeling in the pit of his stomach. It wasn’t anything harmful, it was just…here. Like feathers tickling his insides and making him feel… weird? _Good_ weird?

“Ah, good evening, Mr. – “Dumbledore was interrupted by black eyes flashing in his direction.

“Emiya.” Kiritsugu said curtly. “And I reiterate - there is no way in Hell you are sticking us together with the wand-brats in shared dormitory. We are not competitors of any of the schools mentioned, and as such, we are under no obligations to room somewhere where we could be easily irritated at best and sabotaged at worst.”

Bushy white eyebrows lifted. “But Emiya, my boy – “The wizard began, his tone placating, while those dark eyes narrowed again.

“I ain’t your _anything,_ Wizard. Sure, we will compete, but we will require our own quarters and no interference from any of the wand-brats you appear to house here.” Kirei listened to Kiritsugu, half-shocked at his brash manners. He had known the Magus Killer to be implacable, calm and collected, and as such, this little outburst came as a complete surprise. He never did take Kiritsugu for a fool of Waver’s ilk - all emotional and loud and demanding, but if nothing else, this could prove to be entertaining.

“I agree with my colleague.” The words tasted weird on his tongue, as he was unused to call anyone outside the Church his colleague - he mostly worked solo  and usually, he was well above his peers in terms of knowledge, cunning and power. And Kiritsugu’s hostility against Wizards was… curious.

Maybe he would ask him later on what was that about.

Dumbledore hesitated; both of the young men saw it clear as a day. On one side, he sorely wished to exercise his authority, and on another, he knew he didn’t have a leg to stand on in terms of lodging the duo. Sure, Gryffindors would have been ideal, and both Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws were out for obvious reasons, and he refused to stick them with Slytherins out of principle. But to leave them to their own devices was also not advisable. Finally, he sighed. “Well, it will be done. A room for you two, with a bathroom included. Meals, however, you will attend in the Great Hall with other students and staff, and you will participate in any and all official events.”

Emiya still looked at him distrustfully. “Use of library included, and we are exempt of the rules of the castle in any way, shape or form, including the interaction with students. We will not be bothered by them.” He growled back. “And when the Tournament ends, we will be let go without any complaints or demands.”

Dumbledore stood up. “Now, Mr. Emiya, don’t you think this is a little unreasonable to demand?”

Kiritsugu also slipped down from his bed, standing on the cold floor barefoot as he glared at the old, fashion-blind wizard sternly. “If you want to call anything a little unreasonable then it’s your gaffe that allowed us to be summoned from our duel here. Had you settled proper precautions, the entire farce would have never happened, but you didn’t and here we are. We have to deal with temporarily living in a completely different culture, being partnered of all things and suffer through your mockery of a Tournament where we are at obvious disadvantage.” Kiritsugu shouldn’t have any rights to look scary in just a drab hospital gown, on top of him looking like a grumpy, just woken up little kitten, but somehow, the  assassin managed to pull off the look quite splendidly. And suddenly, Kirei had an unreasonable urge to check if that wild hair was just as downy soft as he imagined it to be.

“That said, Dumbledore, it’s quite reasonable that I demand an oath from you on the subjects.” Kiritsugu said his voice now cool and just a step away from being completely emotionless. “Swear it.”

And oh, Kirei would later on swear he heard an angel chorus singing when the elderly wizard grimaced and acquiesced to the young Magus Killer’s demand.

* * *

 Both pairs of eyes stared after the old wizard’s slumped shoulders when he was leaving the room, until he finally closed the doors behind him.

When the doors were closed, Kiritsugu immediately lunged at Kotomine, the flash of steel visible in Kirei’s eye, before he blocked the attacking hand.

“Oh. Continuing the duel?” He asked, amused. He got a snarl in the answer. “You betcha.” Kiritsugu growled at him, before Kirei flipped them around, his left hand clutching at the slender wrists he managed to wrestle above his adversary’s head while his right hand was pressed into the middle of pale chest as he pressed his weight down between the youth’s slender legs.

Kiritsugu was surprisingly supple, his body a little more filled out than when he had been an adult, but not by much, and it surprised Kirei that such a dangerous enemy could feel so frail in his hands.

So… _Alive_.

He felt the thundering beat under that pale, fragile skin, and he saw the flush crawling up the pale smooth cheeks while those dark, previously emotionless eyes were lit with unexpected fire.

“The fuck are you _doing?_ ” Kiritsugu hissed at him, incensed. Kirei tilted his head. “Restraining you. By the way, if that would’ve been a duel, it would’ve counted as my win.” He informed the fuming youth beneath him, while a spark of something pleasant was just being lit in his chest cavity.

“The _hell_ it would.” Kiritsugu snarled at the son of a bitch that was currently pinning him down on the bed. “Gerrof of me!”

He tried to buck upward, but Kirei had both height and weight advantage on him, much to his dismay. Damned fucking well-fed and muscled priest…Oh, how Kiritsugu wished to just knee the jerk into his groin! Screw playing fair, he wanted to torture the asshole something fierce! And dammit, why didn’t all that milk help him to grow some inches taller? It wasn’t fair!

Kirei eyed the huffing and puffing assassin beneath him calmly. It didn’t escape his notice that Kiritsugu was shivering like crazy, and his feet were probably ice cold too, what with him standing barefoot on the undoubtedly freezing cold stone floor. Kirei had to fight the impulse to shake his head.

“Let’s sleep.” He instead said, making his captive splutter with disbelief.

“W – _Wha!_ You just can’t! You are a _priest!_ ” Kiritsugu managed to get out, his black eyes wide in the half-darkness. Dull brown eyes looked into his own black ones. “You are tired. Cold. And I presume you didn’t get much rest since we were somehow transported here. Thus it would be an obvious course of action to let out bodies rest. But I have to ask… just what did you have in mind to oppose me so vehemently?” He asked curiously, as he tilted his head minutely, fascinated with the flush that darkened on Kiritsugu’s cheeks and the youth averted his head. “N –Never mind!” Kiritsugu squeaked out. “Just –let me go and leave me alone!”

“You are in my bed. Shouldn’t it be opposite?” Kirei ‘s voice dropped and his fingers twitched slightly as he felt the frantic stutter of a heartbeat under his palm.

“Shut… up. Just shut up, will you?” Kiritsugu’s voice became softer and jagged. Frowning, Kirei picked the knife out of his adversary’s fingers, gently placing it on a nightstand, before he brought the slender wrists down and against Kiritsugu’s chest. He rolled on his back, his right arm looping around Kiritsugu’s waist as he picked the corner of his covers and placed it over the both of them, not minding the stiff body against his own.

_‘Hmm. He really has cold feet.’_ If Kirei was that kind of a fellow, he would’ve made a grimace at the contact of those ice cubes shaped as human feet against his own. Kirei himself didn’t mind the cold - the Executors were trained to bear the harshest conditions imaginable, and he was sure Kiritsugu was the same, but tonight, his companion was surprisingly vulnerable, and Kirei himself didn’t know what exactly had moved him to make such an useless gesture. Awkwardly, his other hand embraced the youth around the shoulders.

“Kirei?” Kiritsugu tried to struggle out of the hold, but Kirei hold onto him firmly - nothing painful, but the hold was firm and warm and Kiritsugu was completely confused on the priest’s unexpectedly kind gesture.

“Let’s sleep.” Kirei’s voice vibrated against him through the youth’s chest, making him want to squirm uncomfortably. Not that Kirei didn’t have a nice voice - wait, since when did he think his rival had a nice voice, anyway? – But it was still strange to be in so close contact with his enemy with no violence between them.

Slowly, the warmth crept between them, making Kiritsugu frown a little - the sensation was quite pleasant, and despite his emotionless image, Kirei was quite a good source of heat. And that was now quite welcome, as the castle was old and drafty. And Kiritsugu didn’t want to remember those snow white days at Einzbern castle.

Carefully leaning his head against the man’s chest he closed his eyes. It was hard to sleep now, with someone so unfamiliar so close to him. It had been either Maiya or Irisviel that usually kept him company in bed, their breaths shallow and almost soundless, careless almost, and those breaths were different, a little bit deeper, with a different rhythm and him being embraced instead of sheltering someone within his arms was a novel experience.

Kirei had an unique scent - myrrh and curry spice with a hint of green tea thrown in, making for an almost homey scent, if not for the undercurrent of steel and mana the man was using with an almost unbelievable ease. The drab hospital gown was a bit thin and he could feel the man’s muscles through it intimately - it was as if he was lying on a live python or anaconda, only this one was shaped in a human form. Inwardly, he grimaced at the memories of the man’s punch in his sternum - indeed, if he hadn’t had Avalon on him, he would’ve been a goner, and Kirei’s speed was nothing to sneer at either.

Dammit, he had been so close! Kiritsugu’s teeth clenched in a helpless rage. So close, and then that cursed goblet had to interfere! Only a few seconds, and he would have had his fondest wish –

_‘Ilya. Iri… Forgive me, I failed you both.’_ Dark brows furrowed in anguish. _‘I swear I will make it okay somehow. I swear it!’_

Desperate hope and plea both rolled into one, all the while having a feeling that nothing would ever be the same.

However, the warmth emanating from Kirei’s body was a terrible enemy, and despite his best intentions, Kiritsugu soon succumbed to its sweet lure and drifted off into a shallow sleep.

* * *

 Kirei had to fight to stay still - those dark wild strands tickled him and he scented the man’s unique fragrance – cigarettes, gun powder and the scent of ice cold wind, all mixed together into something that was uniquely Kiritsugu. He had noticed that when they had fought too, but then, the scent was overlaid by the one from crackling of the man’s circuits that added the scent note of ozone after the thunderbolt had been discharged. Now, this scent was not so prominent, leaving behind only Kiritsugu’s natural scent - or as natural as it could be, considering they were in hospital and their bodies had gone through a great deal of sanitizing.

Slowly, his burden’s muscles had loosened and breath had evened out, however even then, Kirei was sure the man was aware of his surroundings and he would’ve been up at the smallest unusual whisper or threat. Kirei still felt as if he was holding a dangerous serpent - a black mamba, if he wanted to be precise and yet, a strange feeling of fulfillment coursed through him.

Was this…how happiness was supposed to feel like?

He pondered the strange sensation, but even he wasn’t immune to the lure of rest and eventually, dark brown eyes slid close and he joined his archenemy in a restful slumber.

After all, everything else could wait.

* * *

 

**_/To Be Continued/_ **

 

 


	2. Lost in the Static

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Fate/Zero - their characters belong to their respective owners. I do own this little story and the mishaps our favorite boys are dealing with, though. 
> 
> Shout Out: Well, well, lookie what the kitty tigers dragged in. A brand new chapter for Who We Are. /evil grin/. You can express heartfelt thanks to Luna13 who finally managed to kick her program in order enough to beta the second chapter. As for the next one, we'll see. Some are longer than another, so we don't exactly have a schedule to adhere to here. As always, French and Bulgarian butchering of Queen English from the Beauxbatons' and Durmstrang side, aka Luna13's awesome doing. The entire story is already written out, just going through beta-reading right now.  
> Warnings: AU-verse, SLASH, butchered Queen English, some angst, Luna's weird little world and of course, Kiritsugu's newest pet peeve being revealed. Kiritsugu is also called 'Kerry' at some places, because it's hard for English for pronounce Japanese name, and Kiritsugu doesn't really want to deal with butchering of his name. In his youth, he was also called Kerry, so he simply uses this abbreviation to keep the language blunders from Wizarding side at minimum. 
> 
> Dictionary: 
> 
> gakuran - jacket of the Japanese scholastic uniform for male and the classic gakuran has a high and rigid collar and big brass buttons, similar to what Kirei is wearing, just without big brass buttons. 
> 
> Malleus Maleficarium - a treatise on the prosecution of witches. Used in Witch Hunts as a guide on how to recognize and exorcise the witch. The book is real, if you are interested in more, Wikipedia is a good place to begin research. 
> 
> ‘Non. Je ne me souviens pas’ – French for ‘No. I don’t remember.’
> 
> un enfant - French for 'child'
> 
> приятел – [pry-yaa-tel] - Bulgarian for ‘friend’

* * *

The Triwizard Tournament couldn’t have begun with a greater bang, even if they tried. Well, there was one such case, but it didn’t ended on a good note, and as such, it had been summarily dismissed from the history. They couldn’t have Purebloods looking bad in the eyes of their descendants, could they?

Not that it quieted the buzz around the tables - in fact, there flew numerous speculations and conspiracy theories. The buzz became only louder as Harry hadn’t been called into the Chamber the Champions were invited in, however this may also have been because of an unknown pair unceremoniously crashing the party, so to speak. Despite the students’ efforts, none of them had seen the hair or hide from the newest arrivals of the castle. It was known that they temporarily resided in the Hospital Wing, and so, some of the braver, more curious or just plain foolhardy students tried to get a glimpse of them, however Madam Pomfrey seemed to change into a she-dragon - if there was only a glance toward the walled-off space, she immediately shooed off the curious culprits, and this time, not even the Weasley twins could use their special privileges to get a peek at the mysterious duo which was resting behind the curtain.

This had been three days ago, and the furor had calmed a little, but not by much.

The only person who was in a relative know-how of the proceedings was cheerfully humming a ditty to herself at the Ravenclaw table.

Finally, Dumbledore stood up and knocked on his goblet. Immediately, the chatter changed into a murmur until, there was a complete silence.

“As you all know, we got a surprise three days ago,” The old wizard began ambiguously, his blue eyes twinkling slightly. “As much as they were unexpected, there is a reason for their presence here. It seems that the Goblet of Fire had called one of them to compete, and tugged along his partner for the duration of Tournament.”

“You’re joking.” One of the Weasley twins spoke out, but this time, nobody laughed. All of them remembered only too well whose name came out of the Goblet.

“The Goblet doesn’t make mistakes.” Dumbledore rebuked the redhead gently, making him scowl slightly. “It indeed chose young Harry Potter, however it seems that the Harry Potter we know isn’t the one it called forth. And so, may I present you with the fourth pair of Champions in the Triwizard Tournament - Kotomine Kirei and Emiya Kerry.”

The doors swung open silently, and there they were. Two tall teens, both of them clad in black. The taller one had brown hair and emotionless brown eyes, leather shoes and his slender frame was clad in black trousers and gakuran, along with gold cross glinting in a mellow light in the middle of his chest. His face was implacable, as if all the whispering didn’t bother him. He didn’t seem to have weapons, making the purebloods scoff with disdain. The other one apparently had a bed hair, wildly mussed as if he didn’t even bother with brushing it. Black, fathomless eyes impassively looked at the surroundings. He was clad in a suit with dark gray shirt underneath along with tie carelessly hanging around his neck, with the first two buttons of the shirt opened as to give a small hint to a slender neck and a hollow where the neck ended and chest began. He seemed to be unintentionally messy, and yet, there was something that made this mess, be it unintentional or not, attractive.

Kotomine Kirei, an image of propriety.

Emiya Kerry, a picture of a rebel.

The girls squealed. Boys scowled or looked at them with admiration for their devil-may-care attitudes. Dumbledore coughed. “In accordance with the Tournament rules they will be lodging at Hogwarts. As per their request, they will not join any house, however they are allowed to sit at any students’ tables and use the library. They don’t want to be bothered, so if they want to be left alone, leave them so. They are not bound to Hogwarts’ rules, so bother them at your own risk.”

Utter silence. This was just like introducing a dangerous animal to an audience, without bothering with safety precautions, and announcing to them if they bothered it too much, not that it would’ve been hard to do, the spectators could-and would-become its next meal.

“Dumbleuh-door, dis eez unreezonable!” Madame Maxime, the Headmistress of Beauxbatons, finally exploded.

“We are here to compete, not socialize.” The messy-haired youth spoke out, his voice a little bit scratchy sounding. “You do have your own quarters, while we were pulled from our own without any prior warning and we really should be compensated for the trouble this unannounced summoning caused us.” His voice was flat, as if uncaring; however, it was being heard all over the Hall, making the Headmistress flush with impotent anger and causing the crowd to murmur with outrage.

“Competing in the Triwizard Tournament is quite an honor, boy.” Karkaroff spoke out, glaring at the duo.

“Not for us.” The priest-clad youth spoke out, his voice just as flat and measured as his companion’s. “We didn’t even sign up for the event. In fact, we were in the middle of a very important and volatile project, while we were summoned, and it’s by a sheer dumb luck the transportation here didn’t kill us.” His companion eyed him sharply, before nodding the assent.

“Fame is useless.” He agreed. “Now, where shall we sit?”

“Here!” A cheerful voice called out, and dumbfounded eyes looked at a small, radish-earrings wearing girls happily waving to the duo. Dark eyebrows quirking and lips curving into almost invisible smile, the messy-haired youth headed to the girl, causing her to beam with happiness when the priest followed his example.

And the momentary silence exploded into noise.

Just how did that loony girl dare to invite the two Champions to the table of another Champion? This was unforgivable! The food appeared on the tables, and the chaos continued while they consumed their food, though many curious eyes still followed the duo of the fourth champions to the table of Ravens.

The Ravenclaws didn’t see hypocrisy in the statement - after all, Durmstrang was currently eating with Slytherins, and Beauxbatons was occupying Ravenclaw and a part of Hufflepuff table - it was weirder that the fourth duo decided to ignore Gryffindors outright than them deciding to sit with Loony Lovegood.

Apparently Gryffindors did feel slighted, if those boos and scowls indicated anything, however, they could do nothing. Dumbledore did say they could sit anywhere, and it wasn’t their fault that Loony was the first one to invite them!

(For a House of Courage, they didn’t exactly exemplify their most prized trait right now.)

“Thank you for the invitation.” Kirei muttered to the girl as they sat beside her, one of each side, making her seem like a princess that was accompanied by her dark guards.

“It wasn’t much, Father.” The moon-eyed girl said serenely as she smiled at him, making the eavesdropping students blink in confusion. “My name is Luna Lovegood, by the way.” She tilted her head like a small bird.

“Pleased to meet you my daughter,” Kerry muttered as he tipped his head to the small girl indulgently.

“But he is too young to be your father!” Marietta Edgecombe opposed, scowling at Luna, while still blushing from the close proximity to Kerry. Well, she did have a weakness for bad boys…

“I am not her father, no,” Kirei responded mildly. “However I am a priest.”

An uncomfortable silence. “Zen ‘ow come u aren’t burnin’ uss at ze stake?” Violet de la Fére asked, her unusually colored eyes curious.

“An outdated method. If I had to, I would use the teachings of ‘Malleus Malleficarium’. Kirei responded placidly, making Ravenclaws flinch back in unison. All of them knew of the infamous Book of Inquisition that had caused so much grief in the time of the Witch Hunts. Burning, they could get away with without a scratch, but old-fashioned torture was a no-go. “Besides, you haven’t given me any reason to use them… Yet.” Dark brown eyes looked over the students, assembled around the table, many of them squirming away or just flinching outright when his gaze hit them.

“But how are you a priest?” Another student asked.

“Consecration.” The succinct answer made the Muggleborns chuckle or snicker, and the Purebloods frown in dissatisfaction.

“Not that! What I meant is how come you, as a priest, were able to be summoned to the Triwizard Tournament?” Cho Chang growled at him, dark eyes narrowing threateningly at the priest only for her to blanch at the bleak look she got in return.

“The Great Wrackpurts messed with the Grail and the Goblet. The Call called for the right one to come back.” Luna’s ambiguous answer made the eavesdroppers grumble and return to their own conversations.

With that, the conversation between the newcomers and students was concluded as the latter ones turned back to whatever they have been doing before, dismissing Loony’s explanation of event. It was far too farfetched to be true, anyway, so why bother?

“This is an interesting method to divert the conversation, Luna.” Kiritsugu muttered to her, his eyebrow twitching as he felt a discreet bounding field settling around them noiselessly.

‘That damn Kirei. Just how many tricks does he have in his priestly sleeves?’

“Ooh, pretty bubble…” Silvery eyes watched the bounded field, entranced, making Kerry blink and Kirei tilt his head slightly. “You can see it?” he asked, intrigued.

“Yeah! It’s like a rainbow!” Luna enthusiastically agreed, her cheeks flushed with excitement. “Pretty… Must touch…” She reached for something she was seeing, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm and awe.

Her hand was snagged by the wrist and kept on the table. “Pretty, yes. Touch, no.” Kirei stopped her firmly. Luna pouted at the priest.

“You are mean.” She grumbled out, while out of the corner of her eye, she watched the colors shimmering on the surface. “Come on? Just a little?” She begged, pouting.

“No.” Kirei’s answer was firm, making her sulk, and Kiritsugu chuckled at the childish picture she made. She was like a little kid pouting at her father – and his heart hurt as he remembered similar scene in the past, only the child had snow white hair and instead of weirdly silvery blue eyes, hers were red like most precious wine, and she was six years old. Abruptly, he looked away, closing his eyes as to keep the memories buried.

“You have Flubberwits around your head.” Luna’s gentle voice startled him back. Kerry blinked. _‘F-Flubberwits? Just what on Earth are those things?’_ “They are usually attracted to very sad people.” Luna continued blithely. “Why, your own are dark blue and purple with orange eyes!” Kirei’s eyebrows shot up. “I take it this is not normal?” He asked as he retrieved for a bowl of oatmeal porridge and reached for honey to drizzle it over his meal. Curry would have been better choice, but in the meantime, he would have to make do. “Of course not!” Luna replied, offended, her face scrunching into a small scowl. “Normal ones are sky blue with pink polka dots and yellow eyes!” Kiritsugu choked on the mouthful of tea he was just drinking. “And that is an improvement, how?” He managed to ask out, his voice strangled out. They eyed each other over Luna’s head, Kiritsugu’s eyes full of irritated confusion, and Kirei’s calm and collected, with a glint of something in them. Kerry scowled at him. The bastard. He enjoyed watching him squirm, didn’t he? But then, he got an idea. “Hey, Luna? Does he have any of them?” He pointed her at Kirei, who just swallowed a spoonful of porridge before frowning and adding cayenne pepper. Kerry blanched at the addition.

Just what were the seminaries feeding the priests these days?

“He has Minbebous Fluttershys.” Luna’s voice was solemn. “Just like Harry.”

Kirei paused. Harry? That name was familiar. “Green eyes?” He asked impulsively, making Luna nod.

“Lion. Boy-Who-Lived. If you hadn’t returned, he would have had to compete.” She replied solemnly as she played with strawberry and banana slices, humming when she arranged them in a strangely shaped animal before nibbling at her creation delicately.

Kiritsugu sighed. This would merit more than a single packet of cigarettes he usually carried around, he just knew it. Rubbing his face tiredly, he elected to have another cup of tea, swearing come hell or high water, he would get his hands on coffee. What kind of heathens were they, to live and not to know the wonders of this beautiful water of life?

* * *

The library was just as they expected it to be - very old, behind the times, with ancient texts and tomes on the shelves with a she-hawk of librarian eyeing them distrustfully when (as) they came in with completely honest intentions. Kerry still had a feeling that if she could, Madam Pince would just love to kick them out, Headmaster’s permission notwithstanding. However, Kirei somehow managed to placate the old she-hawk and they found themselves a small desk and a pair of reasonably comfortable chairs. Research as such usually wasn’t Kerry’s forte, but in his job he learned the value of having information, so he grudgingly acquiesced to Kirei’s lead in this. Besides, no matter how behind the times it was, having an access to Hogwarts’ library would be any Magus’ or Church Examiner’s wet dream.

Even if Wizards were classified and despised by them as the lesser people for various reasons - Magi didn’t depend on wands, of all things, to be their foci – really! What would they do if their little stick would break in a duel, huh? Not to mention their stagnating practices with Magic; at least Magi were trying to do something new every time they did something, but Wizards successfully solved a problem, and instead of searching for more solutions or even improvements, they let it be and moved onto the next problem, even if the solved problem was really, utterly and mind-bogglingly crappily solved. – and for Church, it was a matter of principle – outwardly, they preached their powers had a source in devil – which was partly true, as there were the rituals with such intention, and partly because it rankled them that some no-faith people could do most of the fabled miracles Jesus has done with just a small swish and flick of their wands. Not to mention the general trouble they made for normal folk – this was also one of the reasons for writing up ‘Malleus Malleficarium’, in order to cease the wizards’ and witches’ interference in the realm of natural and supernatural. As much as the wizards boasted to know about supernatural, they, more times than not, were the ones to fuck things up royally and leaving the cleanup to the Church and its members. After all, if something had to be done well, the Church was the one to do it. And cleaning after supernatural happenings was one of those things. True, they had trouble with Obliviators at first, but they came up with their own version of Obliviating later on, so the Church could peacefully, if uncomfortably coexist with wizards for quite a long time.

Well, Kirei explained that to Kiritsugu in much more polite language, but the gist was the same. Both Clock Tower and the Church didn’t like the Wizarding world because the wizards were arrogant little toddlers with funny sticks who loved to cause trouble. But because they were in an enemy’s territory now, they didn’t have a choice but to adhere to their rules and get out of the hellhole as soon as possible.

“So…we’ve checked all the books about the Triwizard Tournament.” Kiritsugu stretched on his chair, his vertebrae crackling slightly as his muscles straightened from the slightly bent posture he had held for three hours when they were reading through the material. History, rules, exceptions, everything that could’ve helped them. And while they got a good idea just how dangerous the Tournament was, that still didn’t tell him just what was they supposed to face for the first task. All they could glean out of the texts was that it was some kind of a beast - one book even mentioned a cockatrice, and Kiritsugu had to shake his head at the pure idiocy of the wizards. Really, did the wand-brats ever hear of the word ‘precaution’?

“You’re sitting at my table.” An upset feminine voice informed them crankily.

Kiritsugu’s eyebrows shot up when he turned around and saw an extremely bushy-haired girl in a school uniform and red and golden tie glaring at them. “Well, ex-cuuuse me, missy, but I haven’t seen your name on it.” He growled back crankily, as he massaged his left temple gently.

“Why, I never - !” The girl spluttered out, shocked. “You are rude and mean!”

“And you never were, miss?” Kirei interjected their glaring match, crossing his hands in front of his face while he idly looked at the rapidly reddening girl.

“I – You – !“ She stuttered out “But you are sitting at my table!” She huffed out, peeved. Kirei sighed. “Nowhere on the table was written that it’s your sole property or reserved for the time we’ve been there or later on. If it had been, the librarian would’ve kindly pointed it out to us. Now, what do you want, child?”

The frizzy hair seemed to puff out even more. “I am no child!” She growled out. “I am Hermione Granger – “

“Oh, why didn’t you say so?” Kirei interrupted her. “If you wanted to introduce yourself you didn’t need to go into the whole spiel of ‘this table is mine’. And I addressed you as a child because if you haven’t noticed yet, I _am_ a priest.”

“Priest, my ass.” The girl mumbled to herself and immediately flushed. Kerry huffed with amusement. “But this has been my table for the past four years and I would appreciate to have it back.”

Kirei nodded. “Alright. We’ve finished anyway.” He stood up, with Kerry behind him. “Have a nice day.”

Hermione smiled at him happily. “You too, Father.” Both of the fourth Champions were almost at the doors, when she finally realized that yes, she had a table, but there were heaps of books upon it. “Hey, you didn’t put the books back!”

Kirei waved his hand. “No need – Madam Pince will take care of that.”

Hermione was floored. Madam Pince was strict and cranky and just what kind of magic did those two use to make her offer to put their research material back to the proper shelves?

However, she was now confronted with another problem. She had an armful of books and nowhere to put them on the table. Eyebrow twitching, she called for Madam Pince, only to be berated to take the books on the table to their proper places. Her jaw dropped with disbelief.

Oh, life just wasn’t fair.

* * *

The Weighing of the wands was an affair on its own. Of course, everyone and their mother and grandmother - pun intended - were curious of the fourth pair. Both Kirei and Kiritsugu would have loved to ditch this particular event, but in the light of acquiring more information on their opponents, no matter how inferior they were - because come on, it was just unfair to the wand-kids to compete against someone who had gone against Dead Apostle and won – and moreover, this was just a recipe for disaster, what with them operating on totally different magic system than the wand-brats.

So, in an effort not to ditch it, they were accompanied in the room by a gawky redhead - Rock Weasel or something - who was disturbingly obsessed with Kirei and constantly calling him ‘mate’, much to the priest’s aggravation ire and Kiritsugu’s amusement.

Thankfully, both for Kirei’s temper and the foolish redhead’s continuing survival, but regrettably for Kiritsugu’s amusement, they arrived to the room.

After being ogled by that weird, bug-like reporter and glared at by the two foreign Headmasters and being on the receiving end of the unabashed stares by the rest of the peanut gallery, it was finally their turn.

Pale eyes of the ancient wand maker looked at the unintended pair of the Triwizard Tournament. “Ah, and here we have the unusual fourth pair.” The old man muttered, his until then jovial face, changing into an expressionless mask. Kirei remained impassive, while Kiritsugu only tilted his head and crossed his arms on his chest. “Indeed.” He muttered, but his remark was heard by all the participants in the room, making them bristle with his nonchalant behavior.

Old head tilted, as if the wand maker was some kind of a curious war bird. “Oh, yes, very interesting.” The wand maker muttered. “And so very curious too, bound and yet not bound…” Flat dark eyes sharpened at the seemingly innocent remark. “The one who shatters.”

Kirei’s eyebrows quirked up the smallest of the fraction at the almost unnoticeable tension in Kiritsugu’s body at the wand maker’s remark.

 _‘The one who shatters.’_ An apt name for Kiritsugu’s Origin, even if a little bit of a misnomer in a sense. Because Kiritsugu’s ability could not be explained by simply twisting his opponent’s circuits - oh no, it was much more complicated… And horrifying. This ability of Kiritsugu was also the one that caught Kirei’s attention when Tohsaka Tokiomi had lent him the profiles of all the participating Masters of the Fourth Grail War for his perusal. That and his strange ambition… or lack thereof.

“Then you know what I could do.” Kiritsugu’s voice was flat and for the first time since their arrival, Kiritsugu slipped into the persona of a cold, ruthless Magus Killer, creeping out everyone except Kirei and the wand maker.

“Aye, lad that I do.” Pale eyes narrowed as the old man eyed him sharply. “You have something of mine.” He abruptly declared.

“Garrick!” Dumbledore’s voice cut the tension between the messy-haired youth and the old wand maker like a sword would to a too-highly strung cord. “Would you mind explaining your comments?”

Slowly, the wand maker straightened from his half-hunched position. “I would.” He snapped back, pale eyes under the white bushy eyebrows glinting dangerously. “It’s quite personal.”

“But Mr. Ollivander, we are here because of the wand weighing. And until now, neither of the two boys had shown us theirs.” A certain reporter simpered out, her buggy eyes glinting ominously behind her big glasses.

“You would just love that, wouldn’t you,” The unknown photographer muttered out quietly, but everyone heard, and Bagman forcefully coughed. “Ahem, yes, Miss Skeeter is right, and we are on a timed schedule, so if you would please?” He jutted the words out awkwardly, with a cheesy smile on his face.

“And you, Mr. Kotomine.” Ollivander continued as if he didn’t hear the comments thrown his way. “Back again?”

Kirei tipped his head. “I am unsure of what do you mean with that, Mr. Ollivander. However I can assure you I would rather finish the business with my esteemed colleague than to compete in this mockery of a Tournament.” He stated his voice flat of emotions.

“’Ow dare you!” Madame Olympe jumped up from her chair, her cheeks reddening with fury.”’Ow dare you mock one of our most sacre’ traditions, you, you _plebeian!_ ” Her accent worsened the longer she spoke, a testament of her ire. “You are juste un intrus and ‘onestly, ze Tournamen’ vould be better off vithout you – “

“Because he _can_ _._ ” Ollivander interrupted her coldly, shutting her up at once. “You don’t know anything about the Tournament, and I agree with Mr. Kotomine’s assessment. This Tournament is a mockery of everything that should’ve stood up for, but not because those two gentlemen were drafted into it. Truthfully, by the ancient rules they should have been labeled as only lawful competitors, and your so-called Champions would be the ones who violated the Code to compete, but as it is, I see the situation here had put those two young gentlemen in an unfavorable light since the very beginning.”

While speaking his piece, he glared at the slightly cowed half-giantess harshly.”Ollivander, that was uncalled for!” Crouch Senior snapped out, his eyes narrowed and face pinched as if staving off the headache, and knowing his workload, that was quite possible. “Those two boys – “

The old wand maker snorted contemptuously. “Never mind.” He harrumphed out. “I trust you are satisfied with Kanna’s work?” He addressed Kiritsugu, causing him to blink. “Yes, they proved to be excellent.” Kiritsugu replied stiltedly. Unexpectedly, the ancient man smiled. “Ah, good, good. May I see it?” Kirei noted that the ancient wand maker actually looked like a kid in front of the candy shop. “The Contender.”

“Contender? What is that?” Bagman rudely asked. “This is a weighing of the wands, isn’t it?”

Wordlessly, Kiritsugu reached into his clothes and pulled out his weapon.

The wizards stared. In the seventeen year old’s hand was a gun. Kirei stiffened, he knew that gun only too well, even if he had been on its’ wrong side only once. A fairly simple, outdated, but well-cared for gun. But like its’ owner, that gun was anything but ordinary. “Walnut?” Ollivander asked, his eyes gleaming. Kiritsugu nodded. “And oh my, a mountain lion intarsia. How very peculiar.” He hummed. “Simple, very simple.”

“Simplicity breeds success.” Kiritsugu replied, a faint smile dancing on his lips, making the old man bark with laughter. “Ha, well said, young’un, well said! If only more people would’ve heeded that….Thanks for allowing me to look at it.” Nodding silently, Kiritsugu put the gun away, his wary stance relaxing a little.

“That’s just a piece of wood and some steel meshed together. What’s so exciting about it?” Rita Skeeter pouted, fluttering her fake eyelashes. Disregarding her whining, Olivander turned to Kirei. ”You, I don’t know. But just seeing your attire…ah, and of course, your hands. ” Kirei had sudden urge to hide them, when the attention of the room occupants zeroed on them. Even if most of them didn’t know just why Ollivander fixated on his hands, and the only one who had any clue was his unwilling partner in the so-called Triwizard Tournament, it was still an uncomfortable experience.

“Yes.” He answered shortly, wishing the whole affair could be already gone and done away with.

“Keys.” Ollivander’s short remark confused the wizards even more, especially as Kirei wordlessly pulled out three dark red hilts, confusing and angering the wizards even further.

“Those are keys?” Crouch barked out grumpily. “Surely you two jest with us!” The adults muttered in agreement while the Champions looked on, bewildered by the bizarre choice of subjects the old wand maker requested to see from their fellow competitors. However, Krum had a trace of consternation in his eyes, as if he was trying to remember something, but the subject eluded him.

“Garrick, why are you demanding to see those things?” Dumbledore was confused. These T-shaped things were not similar to keys in any way, shape or form, and how would the priest use them, anyway? He had had thoroughly examined these items when their owners had been lying unconscious in the hospital wing under Poppy’s diligent care, and there was nothing unusual to it - well, the gun was heavy, some 4.5 pounds, and was definitely too awkward to use for anything else than clobbering the enemy on their head, and Poppy had stopped him from toying with those small, round objects - Dumbledore inwardly pouted at the memory –

“How many?” Garrick instead asked the priestly-garbed youth, pale eyes serious.

“Twenty.”

Was it just Dumbledore, or did Garrick relax at hearing that number?

Were those Keys that dangerous?

Ollivander hummed. “Alright. Take care of them.” He grunted out, his voice definitely colder than when he had been speaking with Kerry. And that was confusing - Ollivander rarely disliked a person, because he was some kind of a connaisseur of human natures ever since Dumbledore got his first wand in his shop.

“As you wish.” A slight incline of the head.

The wand maker harrumphed, waving him off. “Alright, you are clear to go.”

Not opposing their orders, both the fourth Champions took the advantage of the confusion, and quickly strode to the doors and before the wizards gained their collective wits back, they were already outside.

“Hey!” Bagman was, surprisingly, the first one who got the wits back. “There was an interview planned, and photos!”

“And you still didn’t tell us anything about their wands!” Skeeter piped up.

Dumbledore sighed. He knew, from the first hand, that -

Ollivander turned to the miffed audience and dropped the proverbial bomb.

“-Those two boys don’t have wands.”

_“WHAT!?”_

“Ollivander, are you serious?” Crouch looked like he would have a heart attack any moment. His face was more than purple enough.

Karkaroff seethed. “This is an outrage!” He exploded, dark eyes blazing with anger. But then, he smirked nastily - an unpleasant expression firming itself on his face. “But that only means they are not really serious contenders in the Tournament,” he finished off silkily, his oily voice triumphant.

Ollivander eyed the foolish man pityingly.

“Even without wands, they are more than enough.” He retorted.

“Vhy?” Krum, it seemed was more cautious than his Headmaster.

Ollivander was silent. After all, a Dead Apostle like him didn’t live as long as he had without knowing at least a little of the dangerous world of Magi and Executors.

And he was in no way foolish enough to invite upon his head the wrath of two of the strongest of their respective factions in this era.

He chuckled. What an irony, that his little experiment was used in making tools for the only and one infamous Magus Killer.

An irony, indeed.

“The only thing I can tell you,” he said, smiling mysteriously, ”is don’t take your eyes off of them. Those two boys are special for a reason.”

Of course, the rumors after that particular quip ran even more rampant than before.

* * *

November the 24th. The day of the First Task. The crowd was rowdy and full with excitement, and the bets were falling left and right on who would actually win the First Task. Of course, most of the school voted for the home Champions, however, there were found some besotted boys who bet all of their galleons on the Beauxbatons’ duo, and similarly, girls were betting on Durmstrang pair and the black horses of the Tournament. However, the last two were rarely chosen, especially when the public found out that the two were Squibs. Which earned them Filch’s undying loyalty, they were already counted as losers - after all, in popular and much-lauded and propagated opinion of the Wizarding world, Wizards were always superior to Muggles and Squibs, no matter how strong the latter ones were.

The Champion pairs were gathered in the tent. Both Durmstrang competitors were quietly talking about something in Bulgarian, while Fleur was nervously walking up and down the length of the tent, Violette was sitting on the chair, her face pale and calm, only her clenched hands betraying just how nervous she was. Cedric was trying to calm down Cho’s jittery nerves - honestly, the girl was on the verge of tears, and the only pair that was completely calm were Kirei and Kiritsugu.

Suddenly, Bagman burst into the tent. “So, Champions, are you ready for your first challenge?” he asked with a booming voice, his blue eyes glittering with excitement. Six pairs of eyes glared at him, while the last two eyed him indifferently, making him gulp with nervousness.

“Eh-hem, never mind, it seem you are quite well prepared, so we will move onto the task!” His voice was momentarily a little bit higher. “The First Task is…. Dragons!” he ended with a flourish, and as if on cue, there was a roar of a furious reptile sounded outside, making the already pale Fleur pale even further, Cedric blanched and Cho whimpered, while Makarov mouthed out a low expletive in Bulgarian. Krum didn’t say anything, but his face darkened even further.

Bagman swallowed and continued. “So, before we continue, you will choose one member of your pair to draw out which dragon you will face.”

“Let me handle this one.” Kirei caught Kiritsugu’s low murmur. Sighing, he gave out a minute nod. After all, what could be the harm?

“So, how did you decide?” Bagman was being uncomfortable chipper, and the three pairs of legitimate Triwizard Champions glared at him balefully. Not that it deterred Bagman from being happy-go-lucky sod any. “Then, the first one to draw would be brave mister Cedric Diggory!” Cho let out a choked sob, but Cedric calmly patted her on the shoulder before reaching into the bag, and bringing out a small figurine of Swedish Short-Snout.

“Oh, an excellent choice, a Swedish Short-Snout!” Bagman exclaimed cheerfully. Cedric smiled a lame smile at his girlfriend who gave him a watery chuckle in return.

“Second is lovely miss Fleur!” He offered a small bag to her, and with trembling fingers, the flaxen-haired beauty reached into it. A moment later she breathed with relief as she pulled out a Welsh Green.

“Next is…Viktor Krum!” Bagman continued, thrusting the slightly less wiggling bag to the Bulgarian. Furrowing his eyebrows, Krum grunted and reached into the small bag and pulled out a violently hissing figurine.

“Oh… A Chinese Fireball. They are very… spirited, aren’t they?” Bagman fake-laughed. Nobody laughed with him, making him cough uncomfortably and shuffle his feet before he gathered his wits.

“And the last one…” His tone faded when he was eye to eye with Kiritsugu. Calmly, Kiritsugu took a bag out of his suddenly slack hands and held it out on the palm, causing the wiggling figurine to emerge by itself.

When it did, the two Durmstrang champions and Cedric choked, both Beauxbatons’ champions gasped, and Cho emitted a small shriek, causing the small black dragon on the man’s palm turn toward her and spit out a globe of flame. Then it emitted a small snort as it sat on its haunches, its spiked tail thrashing behind it agitatedly.

“And for the last champions… a Hungarian Horntail.”

They couldn’t help but pity the priest and his messy-haired companion. The Hungarian Horntail was indeed one messy piece of work, but they were only too relieved that neither of them got that particular beast to deal with. Strangely, the duo in question was calm - too calm, in fact, especially for a couple that didn’t have a whit of magic to their name.

Meanwhile, Kiritsugu closed his eyes and reminisced about his little discovery of the said beasts.

* * *

 

_**/Flashback/** _

Information was everything. Especially when Kiritsugu found himself on an unknown terrain and, even more vexing, in an unpredictable situation. The situation was vexing for the young hitman – he was forbidden to use his weapons, and he really didn’t relish the contact with the brood of stupidity called Hogwarts students. Sure, Luna was more or less acceptable, even if she was blabbing about strange animals Kiritsugu wasn’t sure they even existed, but behind that, there was a wealth of information if one could decode it from the senseless blather. And just this day, Luna had given him a hint that he should have cleared his head of Wrackspurts in the Forest.

Kiritsugu didn’t have any intention of following her suggestion, as he had still a mountain of research to do away with, but Luna was unusually persistent, and finally resorted to using puppy-dog eyes.

Much to his shame, Kiritsugu folded like a wet paper bag. He never got properly immunized to the darned technique, and something in Luna reminded him, oh so very painfully, of both Ilya and Iri, even if those eyes were of a different color. But they were both innocent and wise. Worldly. And so, huffing with fond exasperation, he decided to heed her suggestion, if only to avoid the hurt puppy look he would have inevitably received if he declined her instructions.

The night was cold, and the castle was an ominous shade against the ever-darkening sky. If Kiritsugu were a more superstitious person, he would have thought it was a bad omen, those sharp tower points reaching for the sky like greedy claws, about to render the stars apart. There was a history in this building, Kiritsugu knew, and so much magic - the stones were practically soaked with it - he supposed this was how Clock Tower would feel like if he ever visited it - only more impersonal and cold and much more powerful.

He shook his head. There wasn’t time to be reminiscing. The Forbidden Forest awaited, dark and silent like a leering beast about to gulp him down once he was careless enough. He could see why Dumbledore had forbade students to go near it - his danger sense was zinging uncomfortably, more so with each step that brought him closer to the edge of the forest.

And not only because of the forest.

The rumble and roar perked his attention - it was unlike any sound he had ever heard – like a sound of a tiger or a lion roaring, but magnified, and mixed with strange screechy undertone, reminiscent of a predator bird’s caw.

Unmindful of the dangers the forest represented, Kiritsugu slunk into the shadows, following the beasty cries. Because if his hunch was correct –

-he could now clearly hear the shouts and orders of the men that manned the beasts –

\- then he had just stumbled upon the First Task’s little challenge.

* * *

 

An hour later, Kirei was interrupted from reading an interesting dark ritual, by the door being slammed open. Kiritsugu marched in, his face unusually pale as he absentmindedly closed the door. Kirei’s eyebrows furrowed. Whatever it was that it had unhinged the Magus Killer’s calm had to be something worth attention. “Emiya?” He enquired softly.

“I just confirmed what the First Task will have us to go against.” Kiritsugu muttered in daze, making Kirei frown in confusion.

“How would you like to go against a dragon?”

Kirei’s eyes widened while he closed his book shut, his attention now solely on his shaken partner. “Dragon, you say?” He repeated, his voice steeped in disbelief and incredulity. Surely the wizards weren’t so foolish as to send a bunch of teenagers to go against _dragons_ of all things?

Kirei dimly remembered having read about such a beast - a small, almost obscure book, which was not even worth of its name. The contents were too fantastic to be believable - live dragons, like in folk tales, the ones who jealously guarded the princesses and then been slayed by a hero. He had thought the tales to be just that- tales, even if the Church’s annals did mention some of the saints going against the beasts and slaying them, St. George and St. Michael among the most notable examples.

He shook his head, putting off reminiscing to a later date. “I imagine they are not innocent little serpents like they are usually depicted.”

Kiritsugu snorted. “And you would be right.” Sighing, he plopped on his bed, and after toeing his shoes off, he tucked his legs on the bed into a half cross-legged position. “They are ridiculously big - the smallest one is as big as this room, and the biggest is the size of a house. Literally.”

Kirei’s forked eyebrows quirked momentarily. “So, dragons?”

Nodding, Kiritsugu hummed. “Four, one for each pair. And to top it off, the fools apparently brought nesting mothers!” He swore, tiredly rubbing the bridge of his nose before he looked at the priest darkly. “Somehow, we will have to survive the encounter with one of those beasts.” He grumbled out, dark eyes narrowed thoughtfully, as his mind raced through the possible scenarios.

“We can’t count on the wizards taking all the possible precautions.” Kirei added thoughtfully. “And we can’t fight each other.”

Kiritsugu’s eyebrow twitched - that was a sore point for the assassin. He was here, with his enemy in tow, and they were forbidden to kill, or even fight each other. This parody of a Grail War was grating on his nerves. He wanted to go back to Ilya and Iri, dammit! But instead of that, he was stuck with the bastard of a priest in some kind of a tournament they were bound to compete in or else lose their magic. It rankled the Magus something fierce, but at least Kirei was a better choice than that Kayneth bastard.

“No, we can’t.” he grumbled, annoyed. “And I would bet my Contender they will forbid us to outright kill the beast.” He huffed, as he ceased to rub the bridge of his nose reluctantly.

“The Black Keys would probably be useless too.” Kirei spoke out.

“Not to mention all four of them breathe fire.” Kiritsugu concluded sourly. “The best course of action would be to distract the beast and then somehow incapacitate it long enough to get past it.”

“So, speed and bait, then.” Kirei concluded, making Kiritsugu nod in assent, a little bit surprised that the priest had followed his reasoning so quickly.

“And research.” Kiritsugu added. “There are books on dragons in the library, so we can find additional weaknesses, those species have... if any exist.”

Somehow, something inside Kirei’s chest loosened as he listened to Kiritsugu’s low mutter on what should they do to survive the encounter with the phantasmal beast he thought existed only in old legends. It was strange to be on the same side after being mortal enemies for so long, but somehow, it was also fitting.

Unthinkingly, he rose from the chair and strode toward Kiritsugu’s bed, making the teen’s eyes widen. “Hey, what are you doing?” Kiritsugu asked, and Kirei fancied he could hear a small bit of trepidation within that cigarette smoke roughened voice.

Kirei’s lips lifted into a minute smile before smoothing his face into an expressionless mask as he patted Kiritsugu’s shoulder.

“Thanks.”

With that, he turned around and headed back to the desk, grabbing the book and went to bed, leaving behind one mildly spooked Magus Killer.

Not that it stopped Kiritsugu to sneak into Kirei’s bed later on in the middle of the night.

What? The night was cold and if nothing else, Kirei was a wonderful source of heat!

Though that still didn’t stop him from feeling absolutely mortified when he woke up in the morning.

(Because one Kotomine Kirei apparently had a habit to resemble a human octopus with how he was wrapped around the assassin. Cue the morning mini heart-attack for one Emiya Kiritsugu, not that it stopped him from hogging the warmth the very next night.)

* * *

It took only some five minutes to convince the librarian to search, find and then part with one of her beloved books - an old, almost outdated encyclopedia about dragons, but Madam Pince had told them that any dragon keepers swore by it, grumbling to herself about someone named Charlie Weasley and how she had to chase him right up to the graduation podium to get the book back. Even if the book was outdated by far, they still got some useful information out of it – for example, that Conjuctivis curse would have been a godsend to have, there existed shields to at least halt the inferno of the flames from their muzzles, and indeed, Hungarian Horntail was one nasty piece of work, and to make things worse, it was also exceptionally intelligent. And with their luck, they were most likely bound to get the most dangerous dragon out of the four.

Of course, they could blind the dragon - Kirei had aim and strength to go along if they decided to go that route, but both of them preferred their opponent being at least a little bit predictable, and a pain-maddened mother dragon trampling around was not a good idea by neither of their standards.

They argued. Then glared. Both of them were too used to do things their way, and neither of them wanted to follow the other. This little exercise was just terrific for dispatching of an opponent, if he happened to be a little too careless. But along the way they found out that they couldn’t harm each other.

Dammit.

_/End Flashback/_

* * *

The canon sounded again, and both of them looked at each other, their eyes cold and emotionless. It was time to play.

“And there is the fourth pair, Harry Potter and Emiya Kerry!” Bagman’s excited voice boomed over the crowd, causing it to cheer in the anticipation. Quickly glancing at the priest, Kiritsugu couldn’t help but to smirk at the minute twitch of the man’s eyebrow at the name he was announced under.

“Their opponent is the terrible, dangerous and menacing Hungarian Horntail! Will the fourth pair manage to get the golden egg safely?” The duo tuned out Bagman’s nattering, focusing instead on the dragon.

The beast’s golden and red eyes narrowed at them, and its rumbling voice snarled at them threateningly, heavy chains jangling slightly when it moved forward a little, sharp claws digging deep gouges into flattened ground as the horned tail swished from side to side dangerously.

“This is a little bit bigger than an average house, Kiritsugu.” Kirei muttered out his eyes zeroed on the beast, mentally cataloguing the ways on how to approach it.

Kiritsugu nodded. “Yes. So, shall we?”

Inhaling and exhaling slowly, Kirei stepped into the mindset. “Let’s.”

And with that said, he stepped toward dragon. The crowd gasped.

Another step. And another.

“Is he suicidal!?” Bagman squawked out. “He doesn’t have any weapons and he’s still going toward the dragon as if it were a domesticated cat!”

Kirei’s steps hurried, until he was practically jogging toward the dragoness, making her roar with anger and rise, her wings flaring out threateningly, rows of teeth flashing with menace as it snapped forward as to snatch the gnat between them and gnaw on the intruder. Instead of that, Kirei’s speed seemed to get even faster and he _jumped - !_

“Oh dear Merlin - !” Bagman choked out.”

What seemed to be a suicidal move was in fact a calculated one. He landed on the beast’s muzzle, and almost in the same move, his fist found its target between the eyes. The impact of fist against skull echoed through the arena, along with the dragoness’ pained roar of fury. An enormous paw shot forward in an almost too human move to protect the snout and perchance catch the intruder, but Kirei wasn’t there anymore.

After hitting the beast, the priest took the advantage of the moment it had to close its eyes and jumped over its head on the leathery back, making it snarl with fury and lashing out with the tail to get rid of the impudent gnat.

Dark eyes widened.

“KIREI, _GET DOWN!_ ” Dimly, he heard Kiritsugu’s scream and a scant moment later his own danger sense flared -

And then, there was that almost unbearable warmth in his veins – circuits, whatever, and Kirei felt compelled to do just that –

-and not a moment too soon - a moment later, the tail smashed on the spot he had been standing a moment before.

He jumped down, almost in the front of the dragoness who was right now crouched over her eggs, and a scant moment later, the dragoness choke-yelped as she felt a hit in a sensitive hollow of its throat.

There is one thing universal to both humans and dragons. If a person knew how, they both could be hurt. And dragons, no matter how reptilian they were, still had some humanoid characteristics in their overall shape. One of those very sensitive points was a throat hollow. No matter how strong a man or beast is, if they are hit in that little area with great enough force, they invariably have to stop, both from pain and shock from temporary lack of oxygen, thus giving the attacker a window of opportunity to either flee or continue the attack.

Usually, an ordinary man’s punch couldn’t hurt a dragon. The hide and muscles of the beast were simply too dense - it would be like having a newborn kitten attempting to shred a grown up human. However, Kirei was an exception. Years of training in martial arts and his knowledge of just how to manipulate the human body to get out the maximum force available made it possible for him to exceed human limits. So the dragoness in question had been subjected to the equivalent of being hit by a speeding train. To make things worse, this punch had greatly exceeded the one that pulverized Kiritsugu’s insides when the pair had fought for the right of wishing on a Holy Grail.

The massive body trembled above him as the dragon heaved and gasped for breath, and in the next moment, Kirei was harshly pulled away from where he stood, nudging him to run.

And then, three, five heartbeats later, it was finished.

The spectators still stared at the groaning and huffing dragon that huddled into itself, making a wounded noises.

It was impossible.

Nobody could be so crazy as to go against a dragon - a Hungarian Horntail of all dragons - bare handed.

Except Harry Potter.

There were speculations about the lack of wands from this particular pair, ranging from derisive to speculative ones, but all of them far from truth. It didn’t help that Garrick Ollivander himself had proclaimed them dark horses of the Tournament, and what was more, he had been right.

“W - What had just happened?” Bagman’s confusion voiced the feelings of the crowd. “Where – “

“There’s no egg!” One of the nearby dragon keepers called out, astonished, and it threw the spectators into an uproar.

“What?”

“No!”

“Impossible!”

“But they are _Squibs! ”_

“Ahem – but they did finish the task, with a record time of… one and a half minute!” Bagman’s voice was incredulous.

“But what happened? _How?_ _”_ Karkaroff managed to spit out, dark eyes wide with unfeigned astonishment and a little fear.

One minute, they had seen that crazy priest attack the nesting dragon head-on, without any protection to boot, and the next moment, he was out of the arena, along with his partner –

Wait. He had a partner.

Then how come nobody had noticed him snatching the dragon egg away?

Kiritsugu sighed with exasperation as they were subjected to Poppy’s fussing. His body still twanged from the use of Double Accel - damn it, he wasn’t in top shape yet – but it was the only way they could think of to get the thing done with minimal casualties.

“You are in a perfect health,” Poppy pronounced, awed disbelief in her voice. “Aside from a slight strain to your muscles, and even that is fading away by the moment, you are fit as a fiddle. How?” She pressed on, her eyes wide with astonishment.

“Just that lucky.” Kiritsugu shrugged non-committedly. He wasn’t obliged to blurt out any of his secrets to total strangers now, was he?

“If zat eez luck I vill eat my ’at.” Fleur scoffed from her bed, her silvery hair in disarray and her robes singed, while Violet snorted at her wording, but she still agreed with her. Those two Champions were surely… something else.

“Believe what you will.” Kiritsugu shrugged, his thoughts returning to the task as he distantly listened to Poppy’s grumbling and Kirei’s polite rebuffs of her offers to examine him.

* * *

  _/Flashback/_

What happened was in fact very simple. Kirei had been a distraction - strong, flashy distraction that got the dragoness’ and spectators’ attention.

Kiritsugu was the one to stay behind, simply fading from the crowd’s attention, until it was time. When Kirei had punched the dragoness between her eyes, Kiritsugu moved.

With the Double Accel activated, it was easy as a pie to get into the dragon’s range and near the golden egg, and with Kirei distracting the beast, Kiritsugu practically didn’t have any obstacles to contend with. He picked the egg and turned to see how Kirei was doing.

And then, his heart nearly stopped.

Kirei was on the beast’s back, and the spiky tail was swishing toward him, and Kiritsugu called out instinctively –

_“KIREI, GET DOWN!”_

-and it was like he used a Command Seal - his forearm heating until almost uncomfortable degree and he almost collapsed - never ever use both Accel and Command Seal at the same time, he noted to self absentmindedly –

\- Kirei dodged the hit by a hair, and he was on the ground and in then in air again, his fist aiming for that fragile spot –

\- Kiritsugu grabbed that big golden egg – ‘- honestly, couldn’t that thing at least have some handles?’ The irritated though flashed through his mind before he squashed it mercilessly. Right then, he had other things to do than complain about wizards’ lack of common sense -

\- he grabbed Kirei by a shoulder and then both of them hightailed out of the danger zone while the dragoness was still recovering from the punch.

Nothing more, nothing less.

_/End Flashback/_

* * *

 His heart still thundered from adrenaline - usually, his job was fairly dull, what with the amount of preparation poured in, and as such, fourth Holy Grail War had been a refreshing ( _-scary - )_ change in a sense, if only because Kirei had also participated in it.

_Inhale. Exhale._

Unconsciously, he reached for the forearm where the tattoo was ‘- not just a tattoo anymore, the Command Seals of a sort,’ he pondered, ‘and just how was that possible?’

Dark eyes narrowed at the covered expanse of the skin thoughtfully, if not with a little bit exasperation mixed in.

Somehow, they were also forbidden to battle each other, their first tussle on Kirei’s bed notwithstanding. (Kiritsugu still blushed when remembering it, even if it was fairly innocent.)

Their little argument before the First Task was not peaceful by any way, shape or form. In fact, they came to blows, and this time, both of them intended to finish it, no matter what.

Only to be halted rather harshly by an almost crippling pain originating from their forearms.

It literally stopped both of them in their tracks, only allowing them to glare helplessly at each other and reluctantly cease the hostilities.

Kiritsugu had to let go of his trusty bowie knife, and Kirei was forced to drop the Black Keys from his clutches, letting the handles rattle on the floor with a harmless thud.

Their designated room was in complete disarray, papers flying everywhere, and the scent of burnt ozone occasionally crackling through the air.

Finally, they settled on a compromise.

That night, both of them slept in their own beds.

Suffice to say, neither of them got a good rest for some reason.

And then, when Kirei was in danger - logically thinking, Kiritsugu should have known that the holy bastard had been in no danger at all, but something had prompted him to call out to him and give a command -

Kiritsugu’s fingers twitched. He desperately wanted a cigarette; his lungs were practically screaming for the lightly calming smoke. But of course, they just had to be in a middle of fucking nowhere, cut from the civilization, and the damned priest had confiscated his last pack and holding it hostage, saying that smoking was bad for his health.

If he were a lesser man, Kiritsugu could’ve cried with the enormous injustice that was happening to him.

Instead of that, he clenched the fingers of his right hand in a fist, jumped down from the hospital bed and strode toward the exit to find out the score they were given.

(Because whether he liked it or not, he was secretly masochistic like that.)

He opened the flap and stopped. In front of him there was a pair of people he had meet before - the bossy bushy-haired girl and the redheaded menace that annoyed Kirei while he had been accompanying them to the Weighing of the Wands.

For a moment, all three of them stared at each other, startled with the unexpected encounter.

Two younger teens stared up to him, their wide, somewhat innocent eyes full of confusion and a hint of guilt. Kiritsugu tilted his head slightly. That bushy-haired girl - Hermione or something, and the other one was undoubtedly one of the numerous Weasleys that littered the school. He was called Rock or something? The assassin had heard the rumors about the Golden Trio having a schism upon finding out that their precious Harry Potter was in fact a fake, so them being here could only be because they wanted to suck up to the real deal.

“Who are you and what do you want?” He asked coolly.

That, of course, didn’t mean he couldn’t make their job a little harder.

“Um… er, well, we are Harry’s friends – “The redhead stumbled through the words, the tips of his ears coloring red with embarrassment as he flushed, the pink clashing horribly with the freckles on his face.

“Oh, honestly, Ron,” The bushy-haired menace sighed with exasperation. “As he said, we are Harry’s friends.” She smiled an obviously fake smile at Kiritsugu. ”I am Hermione Granger and he is Ron Weasley. May we come in?”

Kiritsugu eyed them coldly, making them shift guiltily. “This tent is for competitors and medical personnel only. And last I checked, you two weren’t anywhere on the list.”

 _“You - !”_ The redhead growled and lunged forward, only to be held back by the Miss Bush-A-Lot. “You don’t have any right to say who can or can’t go in! We are his friends!” He called out, brown eyes glaring at the assassin hatefully.

“Friends of who?” Kiritsugu asked mock-confusedly. “As far as I know, you are not friends with any of the Champions housed inside, and especially not with one Kotomine Kirei.”

“Kirei is Harry!” The redhead just had to be a stubborn one, didn’t he? “He saved my little sister, we saved the Stone and the Snuff – “The last world was ended in a yelp as the girl slapped her hand on his mouth. Kiritsugu’s eyebrow arched slightly. _“_ _Shut it!”_ She hissed at the miffed boy whose angry eyes went from angry and confused look to ashamed and sulky one. There had to be a story behind this little tirade… shame Kiritsugu didn’t have any inclination to find it out.

“Kirei is Harry.” He agreed, causing the girl to smile at him smugly. “However, Harry is not Kirei.” With that cryptic warning, he passed the irritating duo. Results waited for no one, and for once, he was curious just how the wizards would grade their exemplary performance.

Kirei had been pondering the new revelation of them being bound by the Command Seals - that was something he would have to talk about with Kiritsugu, especially because it was a worrying thought that the wizards managed to replicate the Grail up to the point of the competitors involved being bound with the Seals - though he didn’t feel anything similar with other Champions - somehow or other, they had the weird luck of being singled out and marked as the only proper pair of the competitors, though if that had been a fluke or because of their previous participation in the Fourth Grail War, remained yet to be seen. Though, it was a little baffling that the Grail here had to choose to bind two opponents together - they weren’t compatible in any way, shape or form, aside of them being the last pair of Masters in the Grail War.

“Harry!” His thoughts were interrupted by feminine screech. Dull brown eyes looked up, seeing a flushed bushy-haired girl who had dragged in reluctant, lanky red haired boy. “Oh, Harry, you were so awesome!” The girl exclaimed hurrying toward him with all the intentions to hug him to death.

“Dere’s no ‘Arry ‘ere.” Violette’s confused murmur didn’t deter the girl who barreled onward, only to be stopped by Kirei’s raised hand.

“My daughter, what are you doing here?” Kirei asked, resulting in a choking sounds emanating from his fellow competitors.

“But… you are too youn’ to ‘ave _un enfant_ _!”_ Fleur exclaimed, baffled. “Yeah, what she said!” Cho agreed, her dark eyes wide, while Viktor managed to face palm at their obliviousness.

“My apologies vor their obtuseness, Father.” He muttered to Kirei. The priest looked at the brawny Bulgarian and nodded silently “No offense taken, son.” He muttered, eliciting new sounds of shock from the peanut gallery.

“I am _not_ your daughter!” Hermione barked out, her cheeks now flushed engine red with mortification.

“You are.” Kirei reiterated placidly. “As a priest, all those who follow God are considered my daughters and sons.”

“He sure goes around, doesn’t he?” Cho whispered to Cedric, only to have her boyfriend shake his head in amusement at her quip.

“But Harry, we are here as your friends! We knew you could do it!” The redhead bulldozed onward, ignoring the mortified silence in the tent. “Way to go, mate!”

“You are mistaken, my son.” Kirei replied his voice calm as he stood up from the bed. He had seemed somewhat unapproachable when he just was sitting on the bed, if only because of wearing his priestly garb, but standing, he only furthered the difference between his person and his so-called ‘friends’. He was tall, taller than Ron, who was already the tallest boy of his year, and his body was one of a grown up and well-trained young man in contrast of Ron’s lanky and muscle-less one. Brown eyes, empty and calm, looked into the boy’s confused and wary ones. “There’s no Harry Potter here. My name is Kotomine Kirei, or if you would prefer, Father Kotomine. While once upon a time, my name may have been Harry Potter, it isn’t anymore, and never again will be. Furthermore, why don’t you go see your real friend? The one that has been by your side all those four years up until now?”

“But, you are Harry! You are our friend! You have to be!” The redhead blustered. “C’mon, mate, let’s go to the Gryffindor Tower and celebrate – “

“No.” Ron’s happy rambling was interrupted by that one word. The redhead’s happy face fell. “No? Why not?” He asked, his eyes filled with hurt and a little bit of anger. “But Fred and George went through so much trouble to arrange it and everyone will be there!” He exclaimed loudly. “Why are you acting like that, Harry! I know I was a jerk but I apologized, didn’t I?”

“I can’t seem to recall such a momentous occasion.” Kirei muttered drolly, eyes casually sliding to the dark-haired French Champion. “Miss de la Fére, perchance do you?”

The French co-champion shook her head negatively, dark locks bobbing slightly around her still dirty face. “ _Non. Je ne me souviens pas._ For zat matter, I also don’t see anyone name’ ‘Arry Potter ‘ere.” Dark violet eyes under askance-quirked eyebrows sized the two intruders bemusedly.

“But he is a Harry Potter!” Ron insisted, his face flushing. “Otherwise he wouldn’t be competing in the Tournament!”

“Vat ‘eez said.” Fleur agreed her voice slightly petulant. She tilted her head toward Kirei rudely. “’E eez an interloper, stealin’ the glory from ze rightful Champions.” She sniffled disdainfully. “Zere’s no ‘onor between you ‘ogwarts’ lot.” Cho inhaled sharply and Cedric’s face darkened with anger, but before he could retort, he was interrupted by one bushy-haired witch.

“You are wrong! Harry would never!” Hermione whirled on the part-Veela her hair frizzing out even more than they already was. “I know him! He wouldn’t have done something like that!” She bit off, looking to be just an insult away from pulling the wand and cursing the French floozy into the next week.

“No matter vat he is, he obviously isn’t your _приятел_ _._ ” Makarov inserted his opinion quietly. ”He is not the one you fent to the school vith vor vour years. He is a completely different person. Vhy are you still insisting on dragging him avay vith you?”

“Because he’s Harry Potter and he was Sorted in Gryffindor!” Ron barked back, the tips of his ears now a fine engine red as he tried to keep his temper under wraps.

“I can assure you I haven’t been Sorted by any ridiculous excuse of a sorting device.” Kirei’s murmur once again attracted their attention to him. “The first time I’ve ever stepped into this school of yours was when I was somehow summoned here. As much as you’d love to entertain the ridiculous notion of me knowing you, it’s simply not possible. Besides, I am older than you.” That raised more questions among the witnesses. Older than this boy? _Really?_ But it was common knowledge that Harry Potter was the youngest from the Golden Trio - so if this Kotomine fellow was truly Harry Potter, as evidenced by his participation in Tournament, he should have been fourteen. And yet, Kirei claimed he was older - well, he _did_ have a form to back up his claims, the girls blushed as they looked at the priest’s body…

“How old are you then?” Cedric asked, curiously.

Dark brown, emotionless eyes blinked in thought. “I would say seventeen. Or at least that is the number Madam Pomfrey told us.” He replied, watching their poleaxed expressions.

“R-Ridiculous!” Hermione managed to splutter out, her cheeks flushed and her hands squeezed in fists. “It’s simply impossible!” She exclaimed, glaring at the priest. “You must be lying!”

 _‘Oh, if she only knew…’_ Briefly, Kirei entertained the notion of telling them his true age – 23 years – but that would be poking an hornet nest and raising more questions that either he or Emiya would be comfortable to answer.

“Believe what you will.” He dismissed the pair of angry teens shortly. “I am not your Harry. I am Kirei Kotomine.”

And was it wrong that he enjoyed their miserable expressions?

A moment later, Weatherby was there to get them out for the announcement of results.

Meanwhile, an ugly beetle silently buzzed out of the tent.

The crowd was excited. This Triwizard Tournament was surely something else – the Champions were excellent, but the fourth pair was the true dark horse of the tournament, as nobody had known anything about them, outside of the facts that they lived in the castle apart from students and teachers alike, attended meals in the Great Hall and somehow got Madam Pince on their side. Of course, girls were tittering about how handsome the two strangers were - if someone would get Kerry to be a little less scruffy and Kirei into some more revealing - ahem, respectable - clothes, then their admirers would be a bunch of very happy little campers. Even happier if the duo would cease hanging around Loony Lovegood, but oh well.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the results of the First Task are - after much deliberation - decided!” Bagman’s voice boomed over the tribunes. “We have seen the elegance of Charms, via the beautiful Beauxbatons pair, Durmstrang has shown us the use of daring and guts and Hogwarts’ very own enchanted us with teamwork and ingenious use of Runes. However, the fourth pair was certainly the most unexpected one, a black Hippogriff in the race, so to speak, what with Harry Potter going head-to-head with nesting mother - I received a word that Head Dragonkeeper wishes to recruit young Harry Potter right off the bat for the stunt he has done - and we are still not clear about how did they get to their egg! Of course their performance was brilliant, but would it be enough to overtake the scores of their fellow competitors?”

“Che.” Kiritsugu scoffed. “As if. Even a first year would be able to do it.” Absentmindedly, he rummaged in his pockets for a cigarette, his eyes widening in happy surprise when he did indeed find one. Quickly, he fished around with his other hand in the inner pocket for a lighter and then, with a slight smile, he put the cigarette in his mouth and he was almost tasting the divine aroma of tobacco as he lit the lighter and lit the cig’s end –

\- when a strong hand fell on his left shoulder, making him freeze like a deer in headlights.

“You realize smoking is bad for you?” A smooth cultured voice made him cringe.

Emiya Kiritsugu could’ve cried with despair.

_‘Curse you, Kotomine Kirei. **Curse** you.’ _

“What is it to you?” He snapped back mulishly, only to yelp as the same hand that had only a moment before been on his shoulder, unexpectedly snatched his beloved cancer stick out of his mouth.

“Hey!” Kiritsugu snapped, glaring at the priest, only for his jaw to drop with the sheer agony as he witnessed, in slow movement, that damned priest dropping the stick onto the floor and then grinding it into the ground for a good measure.

Dark brown, emotionless eyes were alight with amusement for the briefest of moments - so short of a time that Kiritsugu almost didn’t catch it – before they veiled back in their usual bleakness.

“You impossible, utter _bastard._ You know I will gut you for that the slowest way possible, right?” Kiritsugu managed to choke out, his throat tight with agony of losing his little reprieve. How could he? First Kirei took away his pack of the cigarettes, and when Kiritsugu was almost at his salvation, he cruelly took this teeny tiny, itty bitty little cig away. Honestly, it was one he didn’t smoke to the end, and it was sheer dumb luck Kiritsugu found it, but that drove the loss in all the more. He itched, oh, how he itched to get out his trusty knife and quarter the fucker –

“You’re welcome to try, my son. You’re welcome to try.” Kirei replied, tilting his head up slightly, as if taunting him with the smooth expanse of his throat, so very near, oh so very, agonizingly close - just a small, quick movement with a knife, and Kirei would’ve choked on his own blood, slowly, painfully, like it befitted the infidel who destroyed Kiritsugu’s only joy in this mess.

Dark eyes flashing murderously, Kiritsugu glared at the priest one more time before harrumphing and pointedly turning his body back to the judge panel.

* * *

 Kirei felt a sense of inexplicable loss when the Magus Killer proceeded to pointedly ignore him. Maybe he shouldn’t have destroyed the cancer stick..?

Nah. He shook his head. Besides, the horrified expression of Kiritsugu’s face was utterly delicious.

Suddenly, Kiritsugu felt a chill snake up his spine, and he had uncomfortable premonition that his days of peace from that excuse of a priest were invariably over.

Surprisingly, they were placed last.

So much about the judging panel being unbiased.

* * *

_He stood in a lavishly decorated castle room. There was a plush red carpet on the floor and the walls were white with dark brown wood intarsias here and there, a curious mix of modern and ancient style. There was a fireplace, with merrily crackling fire in it, with a young teenaged girl standing beside it. She had been clothed in dark blue dress decorated with golden accents and a white corset, and her golden hair was bound in a bun, with bangs on her forehead and two locks at the sides of her face. Her green eyes glared at someone defiantly as she clenched her hands in helpless fists while she trembled._

_“And there you go. You heard her, Iri.” He started as he heard that voice - a little bit deeper and a whole lot bitterer. “Our Heroic Spirit thinks a battlefield to be something better than Hell.”_

_He was there, a splotch of dark grey and black against the white of the wall, black hair messy as ever, and dark, deep, fathomless eyes for once a little bit more open. He tilted his head at the arrogant little girl slightly. “What a joke. It’s Hell itself. There’s no hope on a battlefield. There is nothing but unspeakable despair. Just a crime we call victory, paid by the pain of the defeated. But humanity has never recognized this truth.”_

_A flick of lighter, and a moment later, the cigarette was lit, placed between those thin lips which spoke oh so very bitterly._

_Inhale._

_Exhale._

_“You - !” The golden-haired girl seethed, but once again, she was interrupted by that absinthe colored voice. “But humanity has never recognized this truth. And the reason is that, in every era, a dazzling hero – “ How bitter, that one word, hero, was on that tongue, he noted – “has blinded the people with their legends, and kept them from seeing the evil of bloodshed. True human nature has not advanced a step beyond the Stone Age.”_

_The white haired, red-eyed woman looked at the darkly-clothed man sadly. She wanted to refute him but she couldn’t._

_The golden-haired youth wanted to strike him down, and yet, she didn’t._

_Because all three of them knew, with unerring certainty, that …_

_…Emiya Kiritsugu was right._

**

Kirei jerked out of sleep, his head still feeling both fuzzy and uncomfortably clear a little.

He knew that he should’ve expected this, what with the Seals, but, this - this was still an unexpected happening.

Dark eyebrows furrowed.

_So Kiritsugu didn’t condone heroes, did he?_

And yet…. Kirei pinched the bridge of his nose with consternation….

…he had a feeling that this was only a small piece of the puzzle that was Emiya Kiritsugu.

He looked outside, his gaze carelessly glancing at the gibbous moon. It was approaching morning, but Kirei wasn’t tired anymore. His right side was warm, and blearily, he realized that there was another person - ‘ _Kiritsugu,’_ His mind supplied – in his bed - but his thoughts still whirled about the strange vision and new questions.

Why this? More importantly, why _now?_

Of course, now when the First Task has passed, both Kirei and Kiritsugu were besieged with questions by students who wanted answers. Of course, there was also the furor about two parts of ex-Golden Duo behaving quite discourteously toward one Kotomine Kirei being published in the Daily Prophet, which caused the school-wide uproar, but at least it had the good side of taking at least some attention off of the former participants of the fourth Grail War. However, Kiritsugu was still irked that somebody had somehow gotten into the tent without anybody’s knowledge and then sensationalized something that should have been a private matter.

Not only that, but the damned woman had dared to imply that he and Kirei were more than a partners - partners in a loosest wording possible.

It made him want to hurl. He had Iri and Ilya, dammit!

_‘…. Not anymore.’_

No. Not anymore; however much he wanted to blind himself, Kiritsugu was a practical man. Yes, he wanted to go home, to somehow finish the Grail War and live with Iri and Ilya – but right now, he was tethered to that stupid priest, forced to compete in that idiotic tournament because of the said priest, and gee, wasn’t that a happy occasion for making friends - not! - and he would’ve joyfully throttled that asswipe of a Kotomine barehanded if that would mean his trouble would be solved that way. Sadly, the Seals were airtight in that concept, and intentional harm with a lethal intent toward Kirei would be swiftly punished. Kiritsugu still wondered just why weren’t they fried the first night when they came - both of them were certainly aggressive enough to be, and with Kiritsugu’s little episode of snapping –

But maybe it only worked when both of the parties were truly wishing harm upon each other and did something about it. Heavens knew that Kirei was one sadistic little son of a bitch - who was, by the way, still holding Kiritsugu’s pack of cigarettes hostage – but for such minor infractions, he had yet to see him being punished by Command Seals.

Not that it made Kiritsugu sleep any easier.

The Magus Killer clenched his teeth.

 _Sleep_ _._ That little verb would be death of him someday, Kiritsugu just knew it. Somehow, they managed to gravitate to sleeping in each other’s presence, and while Kiritsugu appreciated additional warmth… The castle was cold as fuck in this season, despite brightly lit fireplace, there was just something that made Kiritsugu feel cold in the castle rooms, and even additional blankets didn’t help. Some way or another, he always finished in Kirei’s bed, under Kirei’s covers and what was the most mortifying, in Kirei’s embrace.

The dreams didn’t help either.

Kirei as a small boy, Kirei as a ministrant, how he had been taught, Kirei’s training for an Executor - Kiritsugu almost barfed at that one - honestly, an Executor at ten years of age? Were those Church fathers insane?

Not that Kiritsugu had any room to speak of, as Natalia had introduced him to the firearms and other fine killing apparatuses at the tender age of six.

The bastard was also insanely, horrifyingly clever.

_“A certain scripture mentions that the humans are superior to angels. Why? Because there are people who know of evil, but do not become evil. It’s different from angels, who know only of good since birth. Humans have evil, but can live as good, so they are superior to angels, who know only good.”_

And yet…

_“I want to know if it’s a crime to live as you are, when you are different from others.”_

Loss. Bewilderment. What was Kirei searching for? For that matter, _why_ was he searching for it?

Was is absolution? Acceptance? Redemption?

Kirei was always the empty one – the perfect one, if Kiritsugu would have judged him by the peers’ measurements of the man, but empty all the same.

And of course, he had been shocked that Kirei had apparently been married – that sneaky bastard, and he wanted to hit him something fierce when he saw that Kirei didn’t feel anything upon seeing his wife dead, for abandoning his daughter - Kiritsugu could never, ever imagine himself leaving behind Ilya-chan, the Grail War being the only exception to that rule.

But Kirei had, Kirei didn’t feel anything, except loss.

_…”I envy you people. What I sought but could not obtain. What I obtained, but I could not obtain. Many things slipped out between my fingers, no matter what commandment I used.”_

How he lived - piously, cleanly, humbly, how he always held a yearning within his chest – a yearning to find the answers, but not finding any joy in searching for or obtaining them.

He was like an exotic wild beast - tamed, with trimmed claws, and fangs, taught to be gentle and kind, but no matter how well they thought they tamed the beast, there’s still a bit of wildness within its heart, ready at the moment’s notice to spring out and wreak havoc.

And the sad thing was, the only time he had seen Kirei happy - or at least as happy it could come close for the expressionless priest - was in the midst of carnage and fight.

He should have been horrified. Repulsed even.

But there was such a savage beauty in the man’s movements - he still remembered their own fight, how Kirei kissed the golden cross before they began, his lips quirking up into a careless - some would dare to say cruel - smile, before smoothing his face into an implacable expression.

This fight was, Kiritsugu knew now, the one when both of them were pushed to their limits and beyond, when neither of them could say who would prevail in the end. Against his better judgment, Kiritsugu knew, if they were to fight like that one day again, he wouldn’t refuse - not because of honor, of duty or anything similar, but because that was them, bloody, with broken bones and torn muscles, both their minds fuzzy with pain, adrenaline and endorphins and still pushing onward –

He shook his head. “What am I thinking?” He muttered to himself. He had to think of Ilya and Iri! He had to get back to them, not waxing poetic about the damned priest being a poor, misunderstood puppy! If Kiritsugu had gone only by his principles, Kirei would be among the first ones to be put down - the priest was prime example of disaster waiting to happen, no matter how conveniently he seemed to be rescued from the tailspin they had found themselves in. Besides, who could say that Kiritsugu’s answers would be the ones that could satisfy the gnawing in his heart? Everyone had their own truth, after all.

And yet…

He buried his hands in the hair, messing it even more than it already has been.

 _Yet,_ there was still that all too human fault of his presence.

He had spent so much time with Kirei - be it waking, sleeping, discussing, mock-sparring - after that little ‘reminding’ episode both of them resolved themselves to a less lethal arrangement of beating each other’s brains out, much to Kiritsugu’s dismay, as he had been on a frequent end of Kirei’s Bajinquan strikes. It had been a good thing that both of them agreed to pull their punches somewhat and Kiritsugu owning Avalon, because it would’ve been kind of awkward to explain their bloody and bruised appearances to select concerned individuals. At night, they slept in the same bed - Kirei’s, and it was hard to be indifferent to a person when you sleep with your head against their chest and listening to their heartbeat.

Kiritsugu had to constantly remind himself that this arrangement was only temporary, that when the tournament would be over, they would be once again bitter enemies, and forced to kill each other. The Grail would demand nothing less.

He had to go back to Ilya and Iri. He promised them.

He just… _had to._

Their images in his mind became blurry, red and white, and to his horror, Kiritsugu found out that the sound of their laughter was becoming a mere shadow to the inflections of Kirei’s voice.

Damn that priest. _Damn him._

Squeezing his eyes shut, Kiritsugu cursed as he slid down against the wall, looking up in the starry sky, not minding the cold wind for once.

Damn him, indeed.

* * *

 

Kirei gently massaged his right temple. Since they came here, he had been besieged with the headaches. Sometimes mild, but sometimes, they escalated, and on one shameful occasion, he had to cut the evening spar with Kiritsugu short, just because the pain practically crippled him.

He disliked seeing confusion in those dark, fathomless eyes, and even more so, the concern within. Why would the Magus Killer even concern himself with him? What reason would he have to, outside him being a target and a soon-to-be enemy?

Of course, Kirei found out, despite of his hardened, tough-as-nails exterior, the man was a veritable bleeding heart inside, wanting to save everyone and anyone.

_“Even if I am to carry all the evils of this world, it won’t matter. If that can save the world, then I’d gladly accept it.”_

Or this one:

_“If I can, I’d prefer nobody to be sad.”_

See? Idealist to the end.

And yet…

_“The result is the most important thing.”_

Right up Kirei’s alley, that one, but Kiritsugu stretched that by additional hundred miles or so. Because of that, Kirei was even more surprised that Kiritsugu seemed to vehemently hate the wand-wavers, or like he called them, wand-brats. He understood his reasons for it, but it still didn’t compute with the image of the bloody savior Kiritsugu portrayed –

Guilt. Sacrifice. One for ten, ten for hundred, hundred for thousand, thousand for a million. For what?

At the end of the day, the man was only emptier than he had been at the beginning. Cold, broken, and nowhere closer to his goal.

Why was he doing it? What did he get - proverbially speaking - from butchering a cockroach along with the butterflies?

He didn’t do it for fame, no matter his younger self’s boasting. Neither did he do it for justice. Besides, what kind of justice allowed to sacrifice innocents along the damned only for the greater amount of innocents would live? What right did he have, to be a judge, jury and executioner of the scum on Earth when he used the same methods, and occasionally, even more brutal ones?

_“Saving someone means not saving someone else.”_

Why did he save anyone, everyone… but let himself be drowned in the cesspool of misery?

Kirei didn’t know.

But what he _did_ know, was that this little mantra of his made Kiritsugu into one the toughest, most feared sons of the bitches in the world, toting his guns around the little green Earth, all in the name of exterminating the scum of humankind in vain hope that he would - somehow, someway - change the world for the better.

_“I was reckless when I was young. I educated myself by cursing the heartlessness of the world. The world was cruel - so I made myself more heartless and used that as a weapon, trying to follow through on my ideals. “_

If Kirei had tempered himself along the teachings he received, Kiritsugu went the other way, tempering himself _against_ the teachings of the world, breaking and remaking himself in the process, sacrificing the tiny little bits of himself along the way, amounting the pyrrhic victory upon the pyrrhic victory, seemingly winning, but losing all the same, the latter even more so than the former.

And that was the guy who was just now playing with the kittens outside near the lake in the sunny evening, his hands handling tiny, fragile creatures just as gently as they could grab the Contender and aim it at the enemy’s head and blow their brains out.

But somehow, Kirei couldn’t help but admit he felt at peace when he was with the assassin, even when they argued or brawled about in their rooms. He could’ve killed him at any time - well, that was a lie, the Seals nullified that possibility, but it was a matter of principle - but he was here, teasing and needling him - he had enjoyed the sight of the man’s horrified face when he had filched that cigarette out of his mouth and dropped in on the ground and finally grinding it with a sole of his shoe for a good measure. He enjoyed provoking him, watching those dark eyes widen or narrow or those mouth spew death threats at him - heck, he enjoyed their spars while he was at it - even if Kiritsugu wasn’t physically as strong as Kirei, he was plenty fast and most of all, he never, ever seemed to give up. Most of their matches ended in a stalemate, but other half of them was evenly placed between the two of them, with Kirei being in a slight lead, much to the young man’s consternation and Kirei’s amusement.

Now, if only he could get rid of those headaches….

…And they still haven’t solved the riddle within the egg.

Kirei was tempted, oh so very tempted to chuck that damned thing far, oh so very far away… or at least dump it in the lake. Or skewer it with a Black Key or two.

Hmmm…

Choices, choices.

Never mind, Kiritsugu would _murder_ him if he had chosen any of those options. No matter how deserved and at hand they were.

Inhaling slowly, Kirei then exhaled a long-suffering sigh.

“God, please grant me the strength to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I cannot accept, and the wisdom to hide the egg I now have to kill because it pissed me off.” He grumbled out, glaring balefully at the innocently glinting golden egg.

Oh, the battle was so on.

* * *

  _ **/To Be Continued/** _


	3. What We Are

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own either Harry Potter or Fate/Zero characters or happenings; but I do own this little story and the mishaps the two boys are getting into. 
> 
> Shout Out: Surprise, hopefully happy surprise for y’all. I am under bombardment of this beta’ed monster of mine, so now updating third chapter and the fourth is in the works. Give all your love and praise to Luna13, who is, as always, an awesome person for daring to trudge through this story of mine and correcting any of my grammar mistakes. Because of her, this story can shine even brighter. Fire And Ice is in works, no worries on that front. /exhausted/
> 
> Warnings: AU-verse, SLASH - meaning Kirei/Kiritsugu, butchering of dance routines by yours truly (have danced once upon a time, so my knowledge of movements may be rusty), Harry angst and… well, that would be it. Not telling everything, where would be fun in that?

Dictionary:

две черни коне - [dvee-cherni-kone]  Bulgarian for two black horses - (from the saying - black horse in a race, unexpected favorite )

geta \- Japanese for sandals

irrashaimase -  Japanese for ‘welcome’

ara -  Japanese for ‘oh’

tanuki-  Japanese raccoon dog

montsuki kimono –  A formal kimono with family crests. It's worn by men on formal parties or ceremonies, like marriage ceremonies or funerals of family or relative. Usually black with crest of the family of the wearer, here it’s meant as a parallel to the dress robes of wizards and similarly changed.

tabi socks -  Traditional Japanese socks. Ankle-high and with a separation between the big toe and other toes, they are worn by both men and women with  zori, geta , and other traditional thonged footwear. Usually  -  and traditionally - worn with kimono.

nagajuban - Similar to the Western undershirt, but it’s essentially used as both shirt and undershirt, parting kimono from the body of its wearer. It’s usually differently colored enhance the whole outfit.

kimono -  usually denotes just a full-length robe, if we speak about one article of clothing, but the Westerners also note the whole ensemble - robe (kimono, nagajuban,),  trousers  (hakama),  belts (obi) - as kimono. 

hakama - loose trousers with many pleats in the front, forming part of Japanese formal dress. At first, they were worn only by men, but through time, they also migrated into female wardrobe. Nowadays wearing hakama  is also a common wear in some of traditional Japanese martial arts,   for example kyudo  (archery), aikido,  and kendo  (sword fighting)

obi –  often translated as a belt, it’s more like a sash, used to tie the closed kimono.  Japanese use different kinds of obi,  both for men’s and women’s wear, depending on occasion - from the simplest obi  in the everyday life, and the most colorful and complex ones for the ceremonial wear.

haori -  traditional Japanese sort of hip - or thigh-length  kimono -like jacket, worn over nagajuban.

himo - knot that closes the haori.

 

* * *

 

That egg proved to be the least of their problems. Because there soon proved to be one that was even more horrifying.

Yule Ball.

And of course, the Champions were required to attend it, with their dates in tow. 

To put it crudely, oh  balls.

Minerva McGonagall was curiously smug when she informed them of this particular requirement, and not even Kirei’s explanation that he was a priest and that it was definitely not appropriate for him to attend the ball, in any of capacity, managed to deter her from telling the duo  ex cathedra that the attending was mandatory and would they please come at the designated time with their dates at hand and for God’s sake, clothed in appropriate clothes?

“Is she serious?” Kiritsugu asked incredulously as they came out of the she-dragon - ahem, Deputy-Headmistress office.

“She is.” Kirei deadpanned back, watching his companion’s shoulders slump in a faint dismay. 

“Dammit.” Kiritsugu grumbled, messing his hair into even wilder spikes, making it somehow resemble the spikes of a hedgehog on the verge of a hysteric breakdown. “Any chance that they would cancel the thing if we bomb the Hall?” He asked hopefully, making Kirei stare at him. 

“They are wizards.” Kirei said tonelessly. “And sadly, they have a very useful little spell for just such occasions.”

He wasn’t sure, but he may have heard Kiritsugu emit a despairing little whine.

They walked through the corridor – luckily most of the students were at their lessons, and the few who had the curious luck of meeting them, wisely avoided the duo. Maybe it was because of Kiritsugu’s gloomy atmosphere, or because Kirei looked even more unapproachable than before. The day was cold and on the verge of winter – both Kiritsugu and Kirei almost never went anywhere without being clothed in their full attires, the sole exception being their own private rooms. Kiritsugu grumbled about the cold weather – he was not a fan of cold, thank you very much, and winter was a small pet peeve of his, even if Kirei had a sneaky suspicion he wasn’t such a grouch over snow because of the happy memories he had witnessed three nights ago. Not that it stopped Kiritsugu being any less of a grouchy bear than he had been. Absently, Kirei’s gaze slid over their surroundings - a habit, ingrained from years of being an Executor. Small things were always crucial to one’s survival. The floor and wall stones were stark gray in the late morning, looking bereft of life.

“Can you dance?” Kirei looked at Kiritsugu as their steps echoed through the air. Dark brown eyes blinked with confusion.

“Should I have known how to?” The priest asked back quietly.

Unknowingly, Kiritsugu stopped, forcing the priest to halt. Kirei looked at the strangely mortified man curiously. “Why?”

“No, nothing! It’s just; I forgot that you are a priest.” Kiritsugu spat out hurriedly, his cheeks faintly pink with embarrassment as he moved forward again. And some moments passed in their steps eating the distance of the floor to their destination, whichever it may have been. 

“I presume you can dance?” Kirei pressed back, making the Magus Killer look at him with wide dark eyes. “Uh, yeah… I taught Iri – “His mouth snapped shut and black eyes darkened, cutting Kirei away. The atmosphere between the two immediately soured. 

Iri. The woman who was, for some reason, so very dear to the assassin, and yet, Kiritsugu sacrificed her without any qualms. Snow white hair and deep ruby red eyes, innocent and wise, a child within the body of a bombshell.

A homunculus.

The Lesser Grail personified.

So unlike, and yet so like Caren.

Another piece of the puzzle that was a part of the picture Kirei was attempting to put together in order to understand his adversary -now ally - better. Both Ilya and Caren had known that their lives would end, and yet, they still accepted their deaths with smiles on their faces. Kirei had left Caren behind because despite of his attempts to feel something -  anything  \- for her, something warm, soft and whole, he didn’t, and Kiritsugu on the other side, he felt too much, cared too much - even to the extent he had cheated on his ‘wife’ with Maiya, that serious, dark-eyed assistant of his. 

Kill one, save ten. Or, in Kiritsugu’s case, sick as it may have been - kill one and save hundreds, millions even, if his plan panned out like he had planned it to. 

“So teach me.” Kirei offered a metaphorical white flag, making Kiritsugu emit a strange hurking sound while he abruptly halted, dark eyes widening incredulously at the implacable priest.

“Hells no. Find someone else.” Kiritsugu flatly denied the demand/proposal. 

“No can do. That Hermione girl is absolutely too snoopy – “ Kiritsugu giggled at the word, only to cover it with a manly cough – “and others would undoubtedly try to do anything else than get to the point.”

“Oh, is our  holy priest afraid of ickle little teenage girls?” Kiritsugu teasingly smirked at Kirei, making him frown with consternation.

“Kiritsugu. Don’t make me use a Command.” Kirei’s heart leapt a little when the man’s gleeful face turned downward and he was gifted with a small glare. 

“You  wouldn’t .” Kiritsugu spat out, his dark eyes glaring into placid brown ones.

“I  would .” Kirei replied candidly. They stared at each other, Kirei with hidden bemusement beneath the placid surface, and Kiritsugu with mixture of irritation and apprehension. 

“Fine.” Kiritsugu relented with an exasperated sigh. “But do find yourself a co-dancer first. I refuse to be a woman in this relationship.”

Kirei shrugged. “At least you admitted we are in a relationship. That’s a progress, don’t you think?” He asked the Magus Killer, his voice mild as milk, as if he were speaking about weather and not needling one of the most dangerous men alive as he strode onward, leaving the comically gaping assassin behind him.

Kiritsugu spluttered. “Just for that I will teach your date to trod down on your feet as much and as hard as possible.” He threatened the priest even as he hurried after him. 

“I would expect no less from you.” Kirei replied back, his mouth twitching a little with amusement.

His little spats with Kiritsugu were always entertaining that way. 

* * *

 

Much to Kiritsugu’s disgruntlement, Kirei managed to nab Luna as his partner, abandoning the young Magus Killer to brave the hordes of hormonal teenage females to deal with. And to make the matters worse, it had pitted all of his hard-earned abilities to test – him being rebel obviously wasn’t enough to deter the girls from stalking him especially the vain one - no, not vain… Vane, Romilda Vane. The giggly monster was the one that was the hardest to deter from his tracks, and if nothing else, Kiritsugu could give her props for being so stubborn. The assassin had half the mind to ask her if she was partly bloodhound. 

Of course, it didn’t help that Kotomine bastard more or less always headed her his way.

Kiritsugu twitched. He really would find a way to bribe Luna into stepping on Kirei’s toes, and maybe even convince her to wear the monstrosities called high heels, with the heels made from steel, of course. Anything, just that the bastard would feel the pain. Yes, it was petty from Kiritsugu’s viewpoint. But did Kiritsugu care about that?

No.

Swiftly, he turned around and slammed his little stalker against the wall, the knife’s blade digging slightly into the vulnerable throat, ready, willing and able to bite through the fragile skin, and windpipe to deprive their owner of air and life.

His stalker squeaked, wide gray and mossy green eyes looking up at his silhouette fearfully. Long dark blonde hair was slightly messed around the girl’s face, and judging by silver and green tie, he was holding a Slytherin. 

‘Daphne Greengrass. Ice Queen of Slytherin.’ His mind supplied him wordlessly. 

“Try anything and your life is forfeit.” He whispered to her, dark eyes deep and lifeless, making her shudder with terror.

He heard and felt her swallow noisily while she gave him a minute nod. 

Letting out a curt sigh he swiftly liberated her of a wand, before she could react, making her eyes widen with outrage, before he let her go. Truly, Wizards were too predictable by far. No imagination. Kiritsugu was tempted to roll his eyes, but he resisted the urge. 

Damn his teenage hormones. What wouldn’t he give for his true age to come back…

“What are you doing here, Queenie?” He instead asked her. “I doubt you are following me out of the goodness of your heart.”

The girl’s lips thinned in a wordless snarl before her face smoothed out into an expressionless mask. Kiritsugu was mildly impressed; the girl’s mask was almost flawless if it weren’t for her impulsiveness and Kiritsugu knowing how to needle her. 

“You interest me.” The  ‘Queenie’ spat out, her eyes flashing with ire for a scant moment. “Is it a crime to want to know more about the fourth competitors of the prestigious Triwizard Tournament?” She tilted her head, gingerly rubbing her throat as to check for any wounds. 

“No.” Kiritsugu replied flatly. “You only seem to have bad luck of tailing someone who doesn’t exactly appreciate anyone spying on them.”

Her body slightly stiffened at hearing his admission, before she minutely relaxed, her gaze steady on his face. “Should’ve expected it,” She breathed out, exhaling in a small huff. “As expected from the Magus Killer.”

Dark eyes widened with shock and once again, the girl had found herself being shoved against the wall, but this time, there was a cold nozzle pressing against her gut - dammit, but the guy was scarily fast!

“How do you know that?” Kiritsugu’s words could be mistaken for a guttural snarl. Graying green eyes stared fearfully into the narrowed-out cold orbs, for once knowing that their owner had gone too far in her flaunting of knowledge. 

“Tell me.” The dark, raspy voice evened out, making her almost swoon as the syllables caressed her ears, making her face flush and feeling dazed. 

And Daphne Greengrass opened her mouth.

“Cybele Ashford.” She managed to get out. “My Auntie told me about you.”

Kiritsugu stared. 

Oh. 

Those unique green-gray eyes, and now he saw her face, he remembered, the same heart shape, even if that girl had a little smaller mouth and pixie-like nose – 

He didn’t know Cybele Ashford as such; but he did remember the woman he had saved when he stormed the Siberian hold when some unscrupulous Magus was doing experiments on young teenage girls. This particular mission was one of the rare ones without great numbers of casualties involved. He remembered, because Cybele was the one he had rescued first and the girl had helped him with getting the victims to a safe place while he concentrated on exterminating the vermin.

And of course, because Cybele tried to seduce him, the minx. Fifteen years old, but with generous curves to her body and not afraid to use them to seduce the then-twenty-one years old assassin. Not that she managed, but it seemed that his hypnosis of the chick had backfired spectacularly - he had given her a splendid night to remember, without touching her in any way, shape or form, but it seemed that the girl didn’t keep her mouth shut on the issue, and now he was stuck with – 

Curse his youthful foolishness. If Natasha had known about his  ’solution’  she would have skinned him alive, but thankfully, she had been dead and buried at the time, and in his defense, he just panicked. He was many things, but cradle-robber he wasn’t, thank you very much! 

(Irisviel didn’t count, for obvious reasons.)

Biting back a curse, Kiritsugu concentrated on the present. “What do you want?” he asked, still using that hypnotizing, mesmerizing tone, making the young girl’s head loll back. Daphne’s lips opened slowly, and the pink tongue wetted the smooth lips, before she spoke out, her voice low and dreamy.

“Take me to the Yule Ball.”

Kiritsugu cringed. 

Just. Wonderful.

But on the other hand, his little problem of having a date for the Ball was conveniently solved. 

* * *

 

“You want me to do  what ?” Daphne asked her partner incredulously. Dark eyebrow twitching once, Kiritsugu glared at her.

“You heard me.” He told her stiffly. 

And wasn’t it a happy occasion, to be told that her partner was recruiting her to help him to teach Harry Po - no, Kotomine Kirei - to dance?

“But shouldn’t he be exempt from the dancing?” Daphne couldn’t comprehend it. She was educated enough to know that Kirei shouldn’t be even required to dance, especially because of his status as a priest, but of course, nothing went according to the expectations.

“Tell that to McGonagall.” Kiritsugu told her flatly, making her wince with sympathy. Of course the old biddy just had to be a stickler for rules. 

They had met in one of the hidden alcoves, on Kiritsugu’s request. 

She pursed her lips. “Okay. But you owe me.” She hedged, her eyes stubborn and unflinching under the force of his glare. 

“Fine, fine.” He grumbled. “Oh, and if you have shoes with particularly sharp high heels, I recommend you to bring them along.” He smirked darkly, making her slender eyebrow quirk in askance. 

“Grudge?”

Kiritsugu sighed. “Like you wouldn’t believe.”

Daphne couldn’t help herself. 

She giggled. 

One thing was for sure - the dancing lessons would be very, very interesting.

**

Of course, Kirei had proven himself to be a fairly dense pupil in the art of dancing. Much to Kiritsugu’s dismay, not even Daphne’s high heels and the encouragement derived from their little pokes into Kirei’s feet, acted as a good enough incentive for the priest to dance right. 

At such occasions, Kiritsugu wondered where all that much-lauded intelligence Kirei was so praised for, went. Because surely, those memories of Kirei understanding the lessons were not a fluke? 

“One - and two – And thre – “ Kiritsugu involuntarily winced as Luna once again stepped on Kirei’s much abused feet, high heels included. “Kotomine, stop!” Daphne’s sharp voice stopped the pair as the young Slytherin stormed forward, her gray-green eyes flashing with aggravation. “I’ve told you twelve times already – you lead the pair of you! At one, you go forward with right, two – you sweep with your left foot on the left, three - you add right foot! One - you go with left foot back, two, sweep with the right on the right, and add left foot! And  repeat!” She threw her arms up with exasperation. “What is so difficult in following such simple directions, I ask you?!”

“But – “Kirei blinked. “Where does all that turning around comes in?” He asked, confused.

Daphne made a sound like a particularly angry cat. “You just  turn! Honestly!” Huffing, she crossed her arms on her chest. 

“Look, it’s not complicated. The pattern is one-two-three, and turn!”

Oh the woes of learning the Viennese waltz. 

“Oh, for Merlin’s sakes – “Daphne’s normally impeccable appearance was right now a frazzled mess. She was clothed in a simple long-flowing olive green skirt with a dark gray cashmere pullover, which complimented the green and silver high heels that were currently on Luna’s feet. She was making do with purple bunny slippers, as Luna didn’t have any high heels, and as any pure-bred lady, Daphne insisted on Luna learning to dance in high heels, so they switched their footwear. Her hair, which was in a low ponytail, was now largely out of its prison, making the strands fall messily around her face “Emiya, come here!” She barked out. 

“Yes?” Kiritsugu drawled out as he rose up. Daphne looked at him evilly. Contrarily to Kirei, Kiritsugu could dance wonderfully, and she didn’t regret for a second she had asked him to the ball. However, the same jerk had the galls to saddle her with duty to instruct his obviously-two-left-feet partner on how to dance the simplest waltz possible, and thus dumping on her a headache of epic proportions. She swore, when she would get back to her common room, she would find the nearest fifth or sixth year and extort a calming draught or two out of them.

Or she could…

“You two,” she began imperiously, as she brusquely tugged Luna out of Kirei’s hold, making the tiny Ravenclaw squeak with surprise – “-Will dance.  Together .” She glared at the gob smacked duo menacingly. 

No, she didn’t feel inclined to have mercy. 

“You are evil.” Kiritsugu managed to get out.

“Why, thanks for the compliment,” Daphne answered curtly  snuggling amused Luna in her embrace. “Now march, get going!”

Warily, the two teens looked at each other - in fact, it was only Kiritsugu who seemed wary, Kirei accepted the duty with aplomb. “Shall we?” He offered his hand to Kiritsugu, who immediately bristled. 

“Hells to no, I won’t play female!” He growled out, just daring Kirei to protest. “If anything, I should lead!”

Daphne shrugged her shoulders daintily while still cuddling Luna who was cheerfully humming a small ditty. 

“Okay. So Kirei will get the heels?” Luna asked innocently as she bent down to get them off her feet.

Kiritsugu blanched.

Kirei’s weight (181 pounds,) plus sharp, pointy high heels plus his apparent clumsiness equaled many nice little bloody holes in Kiritsugu’s poor feet. 

Visibly deflating, Kiritsugu’s shoulders sagged with defeat. “Give me the damn things.”

* * *

 

Kiritsugu eyed his dancing partner evilly. It didn’t help that the heels elevated him a little higher so he didn’t have to crane his head up so much, but oh, the indignity of the situation he was in…

High heels on his feet, and of course, because Kirei played a male role, he had the priest’s hand around his waist and another held his right hand delicately. Despite of his knowledge of being a male, Kiritsugu never felt so overwhelmingly feminine, - not even when he was pressed to dress as a female for one of the missions had he felt so - and curse the priest for getting him in the situation.

He inhaled. “Alright. If you  drop me,” He lowered his voice to a menacing hiss, “then dancing will be the  least of your worries.”

That said, he raised his right foot, moved it forward, and  stomped.

Kirei had only a scant moment of warning before his eyes widened and he quickly sidestepped, dragging his dance partner along. 

And then Kiritsugu jerked back, and with Kirei holding him, he was helpless to do anything but to follow him.

And then, that  stomp  again.

Jerk. 

Stomp. 

Jerk.

Stomp.

Kirei’s eyes narrowed. So,  that was the assassin’s game – 

When Kiritsugu once again jerked him back, his right foot lifted and gave a small gift back – 

STOMP!

Belatedly, he heard Kiritsugu yelp with surprise, before those black eyes narrowed at him and they engaged into a furious match of jerking and stomping around. He didn’t even realize that he clutched at Kiritsugu’s waist harder than needed, as they glared at each other, and he was halfway to crushing the assassin’s left hand, while they were racing around the room like a pair of crazed dervishes.

It was like another match, aiming and evading, aiming and evading, like a spar – 

Both of the girls watched the duo expressing their animosity to each other - Daphne’s jaw was slack and her eyes wide with disbelief that they dared to desecrate one of the nobliest dances into a barbarian game, while Luna was giggling with delight, humming and clapping as if to encourage them.

“STOOOOOP!” Finally, Daphne found her wits about her, and her little howl jerked the duo to a halt in a mutinous stance, when Kirei was in a pose to drag Kiritsugu forward and Kiritsugu was only too happy to try and to stomp Kirei’s feet with the viciously dangerous high heel once again, both of them breathing harshly.

“ I never…” Daphne was at a loss of words. “I have never seen such a  desecration  of one of the finest dances in the world!” She finally exploded. “If I hadn’t known better, I would’ve thought you were trying to break each other’s feet!”

Which was not a bad idea in retrospect – Daphne, of course, didn’t have the slightest inclination to give the pair that small reprieve. She inhaled again. “At least we know that Kirei apparently can dance. Now, both of you will do it again, but if you dance  anything like you have done a moment before, I swear to Merlin, I don’t care if they expel me, I will  crucify  both of you!” She snarled at the duo, incensed, her eyes flashing with irritation. 

The duo blinked, taken aback. “But – “ Kiritsugu tried to protest, only to be stalled with her raised hand. “No buts.” Daphne growled back, her eyes narrowing with wrath. “You were the one who began with that shit, but I will be the one to  finish it.  My way.”  She released Luna and clapped her hands. “If you don’t like it, then too bad. You should’ve thought of it before you began this mockery of a waltz, Kirei’s ineptitude notwithstanding.” Here, Kirei twitched. 

Kiritsugu hid a smirk.

“Now, once more, with feeling .” Daphne commanded. ”And for Merlin’s sake, stop clutching at each other like terrified koalas!” 

Kirei and Kiritsugu stared. “Didn’t know you even knew what koalas are.” Kiritsugu dared to remark, only to be on a receiving end of the Slytherin student’s glare.

Luna giggled. “But they are cute like that, don’t you think?” She hummed cheerfully, earning her fellow girl’s rather strained smirk. 

Daphne snorted. “If you like the bloodthirsty sort of ones, then I suppose. Now, on my mark…”

* * *

 

Yule Ball couldn’t come fast enough. Daphne Greengrass was apparently Lucifer in female disguise, what with her torturing the duo with dancing, and of course, she didn’t stop at that, they just  had to get over the dancing etiquette and the finer points of waltzing properly. Even Kiritsugu had to admit defeat in the face of Daphne’s obviously superior knowledge. The only reprieve was that they suffered alongside each other, courtesy of Daphne’s liberal use of stinging hexes every time they intended to get into their little game of stomp-jerking around. And if that didn’t stop them; she threatened to find something much stronger than that itty bitty little hex. Neither of the boys wanted to dare her to do so, so they (mainly Kiritsugu,) sulkily acquiesced to her demands. Of course, when she found out that both of them didn’t have appropriate clothes  -  robes \- for the ball… It became an entirely different ballgame. She dragged both of them into Hogsmeade to find the appropriate sets of robes. She would have  gotten her  way, but  this time Kiritsugu put his proverbial foot down. No way would they be caught dead or alive in an elaborate set of bath robes! Luna proved to be an unexpected savior in the situation, distracting Daphne long enough for both of the young men to slink away from the she-Godzilla of a fashion.

Everywhere they looked it was the same game - robes, robes and robes. Luckily, Kiritsugu spotted a small shop that didn’t seem to have many visitors. Without much thinking, he grabbed Kirei for his hand and dragged him in.

The small bell chime tinkled in greeting as the pair entered the place and found themselves in dimly lit room, full of random knick-knacks, most of them buried in a hefty amount of dust. However, Kiritsugu, much to Kirei’s confusion, wasn’t interested in dusty surroundings. 

“Why are we here?” Kirei finally asked him.

Kiritsugu glanced at him. “To get measured for our kimonos, of course!” He replied, making Kirei even more confused. 

Kiritsugu sighed. “Look, the she-dragon in disguise specially ordered us to wear anything else than out customary clothes. I don’t know about you, but I definitely don’t want to wear their excuse for a formal wear.” He tilted his head, slightly, dark eyes looking into Kirei’s empty ones. “I am not about to wear suit, as I am sure it would be tantamount to an insult to them, which we can’t afford, but they can’t dispute if we are wearing clothes of our native country.” 

Kirei’s eyebrows rose at the assassin’s argument. “You do realize that kimonos are glorified bath robes in a sense?” He inquired, only to yelp with surprise as his head was bonked by a hard staff.

“Ay, ay, young’un, what a disgrace you are.” A lilting old voice hummed, making Kirei jerk around to catch the perpetrator only to miss, while Kiritsugu backed away, his eyes wide and his hand on the gun, ready to cock, aim and fire it at the moment’s notice. 

“Such a shame, to dismiss the garments of the Land of the rising sun so very quickly. At least your little  koneko friend has more sense in that messy head of his.” This time, a soft  thud  echoed on the desk in front of them.

In a flash, Kirei activated and threw three of the Black Keys at the mysterious entity, only for them to be parried away by the self-same staff his head had been bonked with only a few moments ago. “Hurr, hurr, so very eager, too.” The small shape laughed, its eyes slit and with a wide smile on a too-wrinkled-out face. 

And now, both of the boys could see the new person. It was definitely a male, a small one at that, only reaching up to Kiritsugu’s belt, if only by a generous helping of his black-colored  geta . The man was hunched forward, as if he was carrying the number of his years on his back, and clothed in a plain brown kimono with dark green crane pattern on his right sleeve. His hair was gathered in a haphazard ponytail. His skin was a little pale, but of undeniably Asian coloration with dark eyes glittering mischievously when he deigned to open the eyelids a little. The hands weren’t seen because of the long sleeves covering them, not even when the strange man stroked one of his long silver moustaches.

“ But anyway,  irasshaimase!”  The weird man bowed slightly .  “I am Matsukawa Shirou, the tailor and owner of this lil’ beauty.” The now-named Matsukawa harrumphed proudly as he looked at the dusty shop lovingly, eliciting slightly dubious stare from his new customers. 

“But it is dus – “ Kirei tried to comment, only for Kiritsugu’s hand found itself being slapped on his mouth, silencing him rather effectively.

“ Ara? Did you want to say something?” The old man tilted his head and Kirei was reminded of an old  tanuki. The kind that despite his age, would not hesitate to bite the young’uns for their impudence… and gut them if they were  too  impudent. 

“Oh, he didn’t!” Kiritsugu exclaimed, his voice a little higher pitched. “It’s just, your little shop is very... durable. Yeah, that’s it.“ He nodded hastily as to confirm his words. No way would he be kicked out of the only store that had a reasonable choice of festive wear because of that shitty priest’s loose tongue!

“Hrm.” The old man grunted, as he looked at the slightly sweating Kritusugu more closely. “Ahaha, of course it is, of course! I’ve been here for a long time, anyway, very long, and my old eyes have seen many things.” The shop owner chuckled to himself, making Kiritsugu breath in relief while reluctantly moving his hand off Kirei’s mouth.

Really, did Kirei have to have that little foot-in-mouth problem right now? Glaring at the priest with irritation, Kiritsugu then turned back to the strange man. “We came here to purchase kimonos for the Yule dance we are unfortunately pressed to attend.” He bowed to the man slightly. “And we seek your expertise in making them.”

Catlike eyes opened a tad. “Arara, of course, of course. Gotta show the wand-wavers what a good piece of clothing is,  ne ?” The man tilted his head, like some kind of a predatory vulture. “And I know just the kind of the colors for you two.”

Unceremoniously, the shop owner jumped up on the bolt of fabric hanging from the stack on the side, raising a small dust cloud at the landing. Kirei stared at the man. Then, he looked at Kiritsugu. 

“Just so you know, if I find moths in my underwear, I am blaming you.” He said to the assassin seriously. 

He was rewarded with another bonk of the staff on his head, making him glare at the innocently whistling shop owner again, only to hurriedly intercept two bolts of fabric to prevent them from crashing on the floor.

Kirei had a premonition that this was the beginning of a horrifyingly long day.

The only thing that alleviated his suffering at least a little, was that Kiritsugu was in the same boat, as he saw the messy-haired teen fumble with his own similarly unexpectedly acquired load.

“Hurr, hurr, shall we begin?” Devious dark eyes glinted at the two youths in glee.

“Can’t we choose the patterns –  ouch!” Kiritsugu’s feeble complaint was met with a decisive bonk of the Staff of Doom meeting his head, making him yelp with pain, and for some reason, Kirei felt both satisfaction and irritation. 

Satisfaction because it was only right that he wasn’t the only recipient of that mad man’s chastisement, and irritation because the only one who should have hurt or otherwise engage Kiritsugu should be him.

But that was only because they were partners in that harebrained excuse for a Grail War…. Right?

And why was he still feeling the warmth of Kiritsugu’s palm on his mouth?

* * *

The days went by both slower than both of them would’ve liked it, and also faster than either of them was comfortable with. Both Kiritsugu and Kirei concentrated on solving the message in the egg, but aside from the screeches, neither of them had any kind of luck. The egg’s innards managed to do what was previously impossible - making Kirei irritated enough to chuck the annoying golden … whatever it was, into the wall with a considerable force, almost caving it in, and to add the insult to injury, the egg was still unscathed, as if nothing had happened. It didn’t help that Kirei’s headaches had magnified for some reason, even if they did notice the pattern, as the spikes of pain were usually stronger the closer he was to that Gryffindor fake of a Potter. Luckily for both of them, Kirei didn’t have any obligation to be around the boy, even if he did develop some kind of an early warning system upon the boy’s proximity.

Daphne Greengrass wasn’t happy with their little escapade, especially when neither of them wanted to say what kind of robes they would wear, while Luna cheerfully hummed as she played with her corkscrew necklace. Since both Kirei and Kiritsugu had begun sitting with her at meals, much to the Gryffindors’ disgruntlement, she wasn’t as bothered by the strange animals anymore - reason being that once when it happened, Kirei happened to stumble upon the bullies and put the fear of God in them, so to speak. Nobody knew just what or how had he done that, but the fact remained, Luna’s ex-bullies avoided her and practically treated her as if she didn’t exist. After that little episode, Ravenclaw steered clear of one Kotomine Kirei, while Hufflepuffs admired him from afar - surely he couldn’t be so bad when he protected a girl – and Slytherins still cautiously observed both of them.

Many girls had been disappointed when they were informed that both of the foreign hunks already had their dates for the ball, but no amount of asking yielded just who exactly were the lucky gals. So the whole school was curious on who would the mysterious duo take to the ball.

The two boxes were placed on their beds, innocent as they came, waiting to be opened. Matsukawa-san had summarily dismissed them upon finishing the measurements, almost kicking them out of his shop, not even wanting to negotiate the price of his work, which made Kiritsugu dread to see the final numbers. They didn’t go for the traditional montsuki kimono, but a little more colorful version - the wizards wouldn’t know the significance of wearing one of those even if it bit them in their collective asses, and neither of the duo wanted to complicate things. Correction, Kiritsugu didn’t want to complicate them, Kirei just tagged along. As a priest, Kirei didn’t have much experience in wearing anything different than his usual attire, and he didn’t really care about wearing anything different in his free time – if he ever had any free time to begin with. While residing in the castle they had been supplied with a pair or two of ensembles that were similar to their clothes by house elves, and that was that, no need to change anything. 

Kirei stared at his pack when the door opened and Kiritsugu emerged from the bathroom, toweling off his hair. 

“You haven’t opened yours yet?” The assassin asked him, brows furrowing in confusion. Kirei shook his head. “Was waiting for you.” He replied shortly, and looked how those dark eyes widened minutely while Kiritsugu ducked his head. “You shouldn’t have, you know.” Kiritsugu finally replied, hiding his face into the towel fabric, rubbing it a few more times. Kirei looked at his temporary colleague calmly, quietly cataloguing his body’s movements.

Kiritsugu moved normally, or as normally as any assassin of his caliber could. When looking at him, if Kirei hadn’t known better, Kiritsugu could be easily mistaken for an ordinary guy preparing for a date. Without his usual ensemble the man looked surprisingly vulnerable, all pale skin and dark hair. There were surprisingly few scars, a testament to his prowess in his chosen profession. Even in Church, they had known of the infamous Magus Killer and his methods, of his ruthlessness and the spotless kill record. If someone had the Magus Killer on their tail, it was only a matter of when the person in question would be dead. Sometimes, even before the Grail War, Kirei wondered what was the man’s drive to go to such lengths like he had.

Why to essentially fight with windmills, as it were. Because the man was empty, similar to Kirei, and that emptiness made him uncomfortable, as it meant that Kiritsugu was the only one unpredictable factor in that farce of a fight. Not Velvet with his Rider, not Kariya and his almost unbeatable Berserker, not Caster and his little murder accomplice, not even that Homunculus girl with Saber, the strongest of the Servants available, and Lancer with his devotion to his master was out of the picture anyhow. 

All the time, his eyes were only aimed at Kiritsugu and his doings. Yes, Gilgamesh was strong – insanely so, and as the King of Heroes he was doubtlessly guaranteed place in the final duels for the Grail, but Kirei’s eyes were looking past the Golden King to that shadow hiding in the back. 

He had seen the scars from the operation on the man’s ribs - even if he had been fed well, Kiritsugu’s ribs still jutted out a little, and there were some small, already fading bruises from their earlier spar, and the man was still thin, worryingly thin, making Kirei wonder just how did he survive through all of the altercations and missions. 

He had been given an unique insight of his rival, his motivations, and if nothing else, he could respect him, even admire him, as Kiritsugu knew that at the end of the day, he would be empty - emptier than before, more hollow than yesterday, and he still followed his ideal unwaveringly, even if his path was littered with sacrifices, both bloody and not. 

He had seen the man playing with a litter of kittens, those hands that held the Contender with a steel grip, gentle and playful with the tiny beings that purred around his fingers. He knew the heartbeat under that ribcage intimately, how those dark eyes flashed with interest at the useful tidbits of information, how they blazed when they argued - Kirei oftentimes decided to start the argument just to wind the now-teenager up, to see him glare, and growl and fume helplessly against him. 

How Kiritsugu felt in his arms when they danced – stiff, his face mulish with his lips pressed together in a thin, stubborn line and eyes narrowed with wrath that promised especially ferocious fight later on – 

How his eyes softened a little when he saw Luna, and those rare instances when he laughed at something. The first time Kirei heard Kiritsugu laugh, it made his head snap up and look at the now-teen as if he had seen him for the first time. Those usually dark eyes were a slightest bit warmer and with a small glint of amusement in them, making something within Kirei clutch at the expression, both his chest and stomach cavities curling into themselves. 

“Kirei?” The priest was jerked out of his thoughts by Kiritsugu’s voice. “You alright here?” The man asked him, dark brows furrowing in confusion.

“Yes. Just thinking.” Kirei responded, forcing that unneeded ball of feelings in the back of his brain to deal with sometime later. Preferably when his heart wouldn’t try to skip at Kiritsugu’s calling his name so casually. Kiritsugu stared at him, and then shrugged. “Okay. The bathroom is yours.” He replied as he approached his bed, reaching for the package to unwrap.

Reluctantly, Kirei grabbed his towel and fresh undergarments and escaped in the safe confines of the bathroom, only to be confronted with the remains of steam and Kiritsugu’s scent teasingly wrapping around his body. Biting back a sigh, he undressed. It seemed that he would require an extra-long contemplation tonight to get his thoughts in order again. 

* * *

 

Kiritsugu looked at Kirei’s retreating back until the priest closed the bathroom door behind him. Kirei was behaving strangely as of late - more playful - if those verbal barbs even consisted of Kirei being  playful  in the first place – Kirei at the beginning of the War was more or less a wet blanket of propriety, a living human machine to kill anything that needed to be put down permanently. 

Just like him. Kiritsugu’s eyes closed momentarily, as his brain browsed the mental images of Kirei - Kirei growing up, Kirei as a ministrant, Kirei receiving ordination to the priesthood, Kirei fighting against the nest of ghouls, Kirei learning from the holy scriptures, Kirei being married to that girl, Kirei learning from Tokiomi, Kirei betraying Tokiomi– 

Kirei the innocent, Kirei the empty, Kirei the monster.

A beautiful, immoral monster.

At first, Kiritsugu had misgivings what with them being paired together - it had seemed to be a joke of epic proportions, them being strung together into an awkward alliance against those wand-wavers - if he had been alone, Kiritsugu would have blown the dragon up and damned the consequences, his Contender could’ve done the job just as well, even if the results would have been messy in the long run, and he was sure that Kirei would have done something equally over-the-top to subdue – no, kill - the beast. But together, they had gone for the no-victim approach, and even if Kiritsugu knew that theoretically it was possible, Kirei once again managed to amaze him with his physical abilities. When he wasn’t on the hostile end of them, he could appreciate the man’s strength and speed, even more amazing as Kirei didn’t use anything like Kiritsugu’s  Time Accel. Even if he hated the bastard for gutting Iri, he couldn’t help but respect him a little. 

He didn’t know when exactly his respect had deepened. In some way, he had always known that his time with Irisviel was limited, thus his distancing from the innocent homunculus in the days of the Grail War and before, because saving million lives was more important than saving his heart, he had learned that particular lesson only too well - and he dreaded the clash with Kirei because on some level, it seemed as if he were fighting himself in some form - equally as empty but determined to seek the final prize, even if he had the answers about what he wanted, and Kirei was lost in the infinite tailspin of frustration, what with his amazing abilities but not feeling even an iota of accomplishment upon reaching his goals. 

Their answers, seemingly so different, had the same question, and Kiritsugu found himself somehow guiding Kirei on the path he himself had been walking through, not even knowing whether or not the priest would understand the meaning of it. Kiritsugu was under no illusion - Kirei was different from him. The priest enjoyed the suffering of living beings; he lived to shatter them in some way, shape or form. And if Kiritsugu wasn’t careful, he too would become one of Kirei’s broken adversaries. 

And yet…Kiritsugu swallowed, as his hands reached for the box to absentmindedly open it, he couldn’t help but feel close to the man, terrible in his stained innocence. 

Slowly, almost mechanically, he took the clothes out, snipping the cords that held the outfit together and pulling them out. Thankfully the hanging of the kimono parts wasn’t needed, due to the charms on the box that kept the fabric unwrinkled and ready to be worn at moments’ notice.

Methodically, he laid the parts out, cursorily glancing at them, and then began to clothe himself. 

Tabi socks. Nagajuban. Kimono. Hakama . Then belting the ensemble, at first with the cord and then with obi . Securing the  obi. He left  haori off for now. The movements were a little awkward from the disuse, but he still got the ensemble on like it needed to be worn. And suddenly, he felt terrible homesickness, to see Fuyuki again – heck, any place in Japan would do. Closing his eyes, he imagined the scents and scenery of his beloved country. 

The silk against his skin felt good - slightly warm and smooth, the heavy fabric fell in elegant folds against his frame.

He didn’t turn when the door opened, his eyes still shut as he reminisced about better times.

 

* * *

Kirei exited the bathroom, only to be confronted with the vision of Kiritsugu clad in the silk clothes they purchased for Yule dance. 

Dark eyes widened at the Magus Killer’s appearance. 

Kiritsugu’s feet were clothed in white  tabi socks with black  hakama  and his torso was covered by dark silver  kimono , with a black  obi enhancing his slender waist. Kirei was struck by the contrast of carefully arranged clothes and the messy hair, and he spotted the edges of black  nagajuban peeking from under the  kimono.  Kiritsugu didn’t have the  haori on yet, but even without it, the youth looked stunning - both mysterious and intimidating at once. 

“You look good.” The words flew out of his mouth before he even knew he was speaking. 

The assassin startled, and whirled around, widened black eyes met with dark brown, surprisingly vulnerable for a moment, and Kirei almost regretted when Kiritsugu forcibly coughed and ducked his head. 

“Right. You know how to put on the kimono?” Kiritsugu’s voice was a little shaky, before it regained its usual aplomb tone. Kirei shook his head. “Never had to.” He replied, making Kiritsugu’s eyebrows arch minutely before they relaxed in their previous position. “Shouldn’t be too complicated. It’s kind of a suit, isn’t it?”

Kirei suppressed an amused smirk when Kiritsugu emitted a sound akin to a wounded cat. “You are definitely determined to drive me spare,” the assassin complained as he rubbed the bridge of his nose with irritation. “ 'Kind of a suit' , he says,” Kiritsugu huffed incredulously before glaring at Kirei. “I will help you to don it on, no ifs, ands or buts. If you don’t like it, that’s too bad.” The assassin bit out, daring Kirei to argue.

Kirei blinked. “Of course. However I would repay your kindness.” He replied drolly, making Kiritsugu glare at him once again. 

Growling out a frustrated noise, Kiritsugu waved him off. “Just sit on the bed, will you?”

Arching eyebrows, Kirei complied with the order. “As you wish.” He quipped and for a moment, Kiritsugu seemed on the verge of exploding, before his face became once again an implacable mask of calm. Cold brown eyes looked at the assassin as the messy-haired youth picked up the  tabi socks and kneeled at his feet. 

Those days, Kiritsugu had been more expressive that in all the time of the Fourth Grail War, not that Kirei saw him often then. However, the man’s reputation preceded him - cold, implacable, with an astounding 100% success rate and willing to sacrifice anything or anyone if that meant his goal would be reached. 

But since they had been thrown into that mockery of the Grail War, it seemed something had changed within Kiritsugu - something had been chipped off of that hard exterior of his, offering Kirei a unique insight to the assassin’s passionate nature, both within dreams and reality. He scowled. He bickered. He was generally more expressive, and yet, underneath it all, Kirei felt a strange desperation from him - not often, it was like drinking a shot of bitter absinthe every once in a while, but still, it made him wonder – 

But no, Kirei was … content with that new version of Kiritsugu, even if it had been more unpredictable and erratic, and he never knew whether Kiritsugu would explode at him for some quip or gave him a cold shoulder. They had been together most of the time, and when they weren’t Kirei felt almost bereft, as if he was missing some kind of a limb he didn’t know it had been necessary for him to function normally. 

He suppressed a shiver when the man’s slightly cool hands rolled up the  tabi socks and closed them. Kiritsugu then motioned him to stand up, offering him a  nagajuban , not bothering to tell him to remove the black turtleneck he wore. The garment was dove grey and warm, the silk sliding against his body smoothly. Kiritsugu swiftly folded left side over the right and tied the endings, before motioning him to get in the  hakama.

Kirei fidgeted a little as he got the  hakama  on, as those slender hands expertly tucked the  nagajuban  in, making him feel weird as the silky garment slid against his bare tights - it was both warm and loose and just the kind he wasn’t really used to. Then, the  kimono followed, adding another layer of warmth for his upper body and Kirei twitched a little when Kiritsugu tied  obi  around his waist. The almost entire ensemble felt stifling, especially in the waist region, as Kirei felt as if his abdomen and the lower back were encased in some kind of an armor, made entirely from fabric, while his legs were curiously bereft of the semi-tightness that usually accompanied wearing trousers. 

It was a strange feeling, having Kiritsugu tending to him like that. The assassin’s face was attentive - not cold, but attentive, and Kirei had to keep his body under control not to react to the young man’s touches, however intentional or not they were. The entire process was strangely delicate, and reminding Kirei of a ceremony in a sense - only, this ceremony right now was just between the two of them. Those hands that could hold heavy guns without flinching at the force of heavy recoil, were tending to him gently, and yet firmly enough and it was like the man cared about him. 

Finally, Kiritsugu stood up and offered him the last garment.

The  haori  was silver, with black and light gray eastern dragons dancing along the edges. It had been an understated piece of work, delicate and somehow intimidating in its simplicity. Wordlessly, Kirei slipped it on, closing it with black  himo .

Kiritsugu reached for his own haori but Kirei was faster - he swiftly snatched the garment, taking care as not to crease it before offering it to Kiritsugu like Kiritsugu had done it to him. 

Dark eyes narrowing minutely, Kiritsugu hesitated for a moment before he acquiesced to Kirei’s silent demand.

Kiritsugu’s  haori  was deep black with a vivid splash of peonies in bloom on his right sleeve and at the bottom of the hem. The peonies were pink and red and peach-colored, the lines edged with gold thread, while the surrounding leaves were in shades of green and violet, along with an occasional bloom edged in platinum and patterned in the softest, deepest shades of brown and violet. The overall effect was stunning, but Kirei frowned at Kiritsugu’s exposed neck. 

Wordlessly, he turned around and rummaged about his closet until he found what he had searched for.

While Kiritsugu was still smoothing down the non-existent wrinkles, Kirei swiftly looped the scarf around the assassin’s neck, making him yelp with surprise. “So that you won’t get cold.” He offered awkwardly.

The scarf in question was one of the miscellaneous items Kirei had picked up in Hogsmeade for some reason - dark, smoky blue with dark blue and some gray patterns. It wasn’t something that got along with the whole ensemble much, and for some reason, that pleased Kirei.

“That’s not part of the outfit, Kirei!” Kiritsugu spluttered out, dark eyes wide and then narrowing with irritation, but he didn’t make a move to get the scarf off either. 

Kirei’s lips quirked into a tiny smirk. “Neither is going to a Westerners ball in an Eastern outfit. “ He pointed out, making Kiritsugu deflate. The assassin glared at him with irritation before turning and tucking away some of the weapons. 

Tiny smile on his mouth, Kirei followed his example. 

After all, safety was never guaranteed. 

 

* * *

Both of the fourth champions garnered attention with their unusual garb, enough to unintentionally make people stop and stare. Even their dates, had been eyeing them curiously. 

“What’s with the getup?” Daphne asked. She was walking alongside Kiritsugu, clad in dark green with some silver accents that enhanced the paleness of her hair which was made into an artful knot in the top of her head, being held together with two crystalline hairpins, only a strand or two escaping to frame her lightly done face. 

Luna was clothed in light blue  cheongsam with silver and white eastern dragons dancing across the fabric, her hair in a side braid with a bloom of pink camellia tucked in. She was humming cheerfully as she walked alongside Kirei, her hand tucked at his elbow.

“I despise those excuses for bathrobes.” Kiritsugu replied. “And if I had to attend the ball, I at least have the right to attend it in something that wouldn’t make me look like a fool.”

“Well, yes.” Daphne sighed as she once again looked at the elaborate getup her partner for the evening was dressed in. “However this little clothing of yours is still some kind of a bathrobe.” She couldn’t help herself but point out a little bit spitefully. 

“A bathrobe with tradition.” Kiritsugu staunchly defended his choice of formal wear. “While you wizards, on the other hand, look like overgrown color-blind bats.” Daphne made an outraged noise in the back of her throat, barely holding herself back from pinching the bastard . ‘How dare he!’ She fumed. No matter how right he was, that still didn’t mean she was happy with him dissing the traditions of her world!

“Your fashion comments are  not  appreciated.” She bit out coldly. Kiritsugu eyed her flatly. “Nor is your lack of knowledge.” He replied mildly, making her eyes widen with shock. 

“How dare – “ She seethed. A cold look from dark eyes silenced her. “Both of us are from Japan. And I assure you, the formal wear from our native country is vastly different from yours. We could’ve gone to the ball in our usual clothes, but that would’ve been an affront to the hosts. However, we are  not, and we will never be a part of your world - so why should we conform to your silly fashion rules?” He asked her, making her hang her head shamefully. 

“I’m sorry. “She mumbled out, her cheeks faintly pink, but she raised her head up proudly as if nothing happened. It was easily to forget the two champions weren’t born and bred Englishmen, what with their perfect language skills. 

“Oh, don’t worry, don’t worry.” Luna cheerfully interjected. “Besides, isn’t it more fun when you are something extraordinary than doing all the boring stuff others do?” She hummed, as she swayed slightly, prompting Kirei to hold her tighter. 

“Like teaching those two dunces how to dance?” Daphne quipped, the corners of her lips lifting up in a small smile.

“Hey!” Kiritsugu glowered at her, making both of the girls burst out in a small fit of giggles at remembrance. 

“Champions, prepare for the entrance!” The call interrupted their silly bit of fun, making Kiritsugu groan and roll his eyes heavenward, and Kirei smirk with amusement at his long-suffering expression. 

A moment later, both of them were composed and ready to go through the mission of dancing with the smallest possible amount of damage to their toes.

 

* * *

Hermione stared. And she wasn’t the only one, either. Because, really, it was a truly weird image, to see two kimono-clad teen boys dancing a Viennese waltz with the girls clad in Western fashion. Since she had entered the Wizarding world, Hermione had to deal with wacky, bizarre, and truly weird, but this topped everything she had seen previously. And to add the insult to injury, both of the pairs danced exquisitely well – the Greengrass-Emiya pair -  how did that happen? – was a little bit better than Lovegood-Potter one, but the latter two weren’t any slouches either, even if it was a fairly weird to see tiny Luna dancing with someone at least three heads taller than her. 

She shook her head. Harry was always a little weird that way. She still couldn’t accept that this Kotomine priest was in fact Harry Potter, but the will of the Goblet was absolute. Both Hermione and Ron had tried to connect with that new version of Harry, but without much success. Harry - no, Kotomine, was just plain infuriating at times. Of course, he was polite, a veritable choir boy if Hermione wanted to be sarcastic about it, but at the same time, he managed to needle at her innermost insecurities, and uprooting them for all to see, and like it or not, he was also insufferably clever. He made circles around her when they talked, much to her dismay and frustration. The only one who could rein him in - at least marginally, was that Emiya fellow, and even then it was only rerouting the fire, so to speak. Even if she had been relieved that she wasn’t the target of his barbs, Hermione also felt unreasonably jealous of the messy-haired youth for averting Kotomine’s attention so successfully onto his person. 

And Ron wasn’t any better either. After Kotomine had rejected them so thoroughly, Ron had begun a campaign against the priest, loudly complaining and defaming him, with varying results. Most of the Gryffindors were in awe of the man - who else was that dumb and outright reckless to go barehanded against a  dragon of all things - but there were some of them that genuinely thought Kirei was using some kind of Dark Magic to win the tasks, even when Daily Prophet explicitly announced that Kotomine Kirei was, in essence, a Squib. 

This had triggered a storm of speculations and fears, as both of the Fourth Champions were publically decried, making them virtual pariahs among the castle residents, yet they somehow managed to snatch each a girl for the date, and if the rumors were correct and usually they were, many girls were disappointed that they didn’t snatch either of them for tonight’s dates. Which drove the youngest male Weasley to be angry to distraction, and he barely avoided having been banned from the dance in the Tower. Hermione huffed. Honestly, she didn’t know why she was ever a friend with the jerk in the first place.

“Hermy-own-ninny?” Viktor murmured in her ear. “Are you alright?” The tall Bulgarian champion wasn’t much on the looks, but he had his own charm, and if Hermione was honest with herself, his attention to her person boosted her self-esteem quite a bit. Score one for brainy girls. “Yeah.” She mumbled back. “Just looking at them.” She tipped her head in the direction of the dancing pair, making Viktor’s thick eyebrows furrow a bit. 

“They are unusual.” He commented, ducking his head a bit as he led her into the next figure confidently. Hermione shrugged. “Made a fair bit of impression vith our Headmaster, too.” Viktor continued. Hermione grimaced. “Can imagine.” She commented dryly. “There aren’t any people suicidal enough to go bare-handed against a dragon, nowadays.” She snarked, making her dancing partner chuckle. “ But seriously, Viktor, do you feel you have any chances against them?” She eyed him concernedly. “They are  две черни коне in the race.” Viktor replied slowly. “The worst thing is that we don’t know what to expect them to pull out of their bag of tricks next. That wandmaker – “ 

“- Ollivander,” Hermione supplied helpfully, nodding slightly, “Ollivander,” Viktor acquiesced, “has told us to be wary of them, despite of them being practically Squibs. “ He continued, dark eyes distant, but still leading Hermione around the ballroom flawlessly. “And I can’t help but have a niggling feeling that there’s more to it, but I don’t know what. I should’ve remembered, but it eludes me for some reason!” He growled out, frustrated. Sympathetically, Hermione patted him on his shoulder. “It will come to you on its own time,” she muttered. Viktor snorted. “But time is exactly what we don’t have.” He replied cryptically, lips pulling tight for a moment before relaxing again, as he eyed his dance partner fondly. Hermione was a vision in periwinkle blue and with her hair done in a waterfall of ringlets that fell down her back. The only way she would have been even more beautiful, Viktor pondered, would be if she had been clothed in the colors of his House. But right now, it only remained to dance and enjoy the evening with his beautiful English rose. 

 

* * *

“How far have you fallen, huh, Potter?” Harry flinched at hearing the drawling voice. “No adoring crowds, no accolades, nothing.” That snooty voice belonged to only one person - Draco Malfoy, the bane of his life. 

Green eyes looked at the young Slytherin briefly. The Malfoy scion was clothed in resplendent silver and black robes which, in Harry’s not so humble opinion, only enhanced the pointy features of his ferrety face, which was now unimaginably smug. He was accompanied with his usual adoring posse, which made Harry hunch on himself a bit.

“Poor little Potty, all alone, with no friends to speak of.” Malfoy mock-cooed, making Harry’s hands clench in fists and igniting a burning desire to curse the jerk with something horrible. “Oh, wait, you aren’t even a  Potter !” Draco exclaimed, prompting his squad to laugh at the green-eyed teen derisively. “So, how does it feel, to have no family, no friends and no identity?” Draco asked mockingly. “To be a….” he paused dramatically – 

“A  nobody? ”

Harry clenched his teeth. The constant headache elevated again. He didn’t know whether it was because Malfoy was a jerk to the n-th degree or because the place was now suddenly seemingly pressing down directly on his skull or anything else - 

“How does it feel that you were following an impostor?” He spat back mockingly, leering as Draco jerked back. “How does it  feel, Your Slytheriness, that you made a bungle and offered your oh-so  mighty protection and alliance to some poor no-name schmuck?” The Slytherin groupstilled as Draco’s mocking face transformed into an angry one.

“How does it feel, Oh So Cunning One, to be duped by little old me?” Harry grinned a deathly grin, unconsciously making himself a little more deranged looking, prompting the listeners to step a wary step or two away . “Oh, wait - how does it feel to be  outdone  and  outgunned by a simple  nobody ? The nobody who protected the Stone, killed a Basilisk and fended over hundred Dementors?”

Harry paused, as he tilted his head, skull pounding with pain. “How does it feel to still ride Daddy’s coat tails,  Drakie- poo?” He mock-cooed.

“You filthy little – “ Draco couldn’t speak. He was so angry, so furious that his entire body was trembling with him repressing the urge to curse that little no-name to the deepest pits of hell and back. 

Those mocking green, eyes leered at him, empty and unafraid of whatever he would do to their owner with his influence. 

Forcibly, he relaxed, his muscles unknotting from their tense position. 

Breath in. 

Breath out.

He was a  Malfoy.

Malfoys don’t get mad - they get even.

“Relieved.” He replied frankly, making his fellow Slytherin’s heads snap to him in surprise and that no-name’s smug face fell a little. “Because I always knew that it wasn’t you who could’ve done what you claim you did. You were the only one to  witness  your impossible tasks, which doesn’t exactly  inspire  the confidence you were actually the one who had done them.”

Meaningfully, his eyes wandered to the back of that Kotomine foreigner, making the no-name scowl deeper. “What proof can you give to say you are not the next Lockhart in the making?” The witnesses began to murmur in agreement, making the scruffy no-name boy pale.

“But I have done it!” The boy - Draco didn’t deign to call him otherwise, especially because the impostor stole the Potter name - exclaimed loudly, a desperate light in his eyes. “Ron can back me up! And Hermione! And Ginny – “

“Where are they now?” Draco interrupted him smoothly. “If you did all that, they would have been alongside you, right now, backing you up. Where do you have your so-called witnesses?”

“They – “ The boy choked up, eyes widening with panic and pain. “ And really, No-Name,  Weasel? ” Draco drawled out, gray eyes tilting disdainfully. “I would bet Malfoy’s most precious jewels that you bribed the little human piglet that he is, with food to endorse that little heroic story of yours. And his little sister is not exactly credible source, either, what with her having been so blind by your false persona.” He regally waved the next protest off. “Granger doesn’t count the little know-it-all she is with her dirty blood. She claims to know everything but she doesn’t even heed the simplest rules of etiquette in our society.” He scoffed. “So much about your loyal and reliable cohorts, No-Name.” He turned around. “Let’s go, he - no,  it ’s not worthy of our time.”

Laughing, his Slytherin cohorts followed him, leaving behind a broken boy, with empty eyes who clenched his hands. 

One day… No-Name swore -  one  day, Malfoy would soon  rue his words and beg for his mercy. 

Because there was no Dark or Light…. There was only Power and those too weak to seize it. 

And may one Draco Malfoy say anything he wants, No-Name’s power was the real deal. 

 

* * *

The Yule Ball was a grand affair for most of the attendees, however not for one Kotomine Kirei. 

Once again, Kirei was besieged with a headache, and even if usually he could bear the pain, this time, it forced him to get out of the hall and to some dark alcove as to flee from the strange sounds the wizards claimed it was music and general hubbub of the festivities. 

Closing his eyes, Kirei tried to stuff the unpleasant feeling in the small mental box he usually used for such occasions, but the pain was relentless, and it didn’t help that he was feeling something he shouldn’t have felt - didn’t have  capacity to feel in any way, shape or form. It was so incomprehensible, so…  alien , that his brain outright rebelled to categorize it, thus compounding even more of pain on itself and beginning the loop again. 

It was almost enough to make Kirei want to draw out one of the Black Keys and pierce his own skull with it. Frowning and wincing again, he rubbed his right temple tiredly. Socializing was never his strong forte, and being together with so many people at once, in a non-hostile situation, almost all of them wanting to talk to him at the same time, was getting on his nerves. Give him Dead Apostles any day, and he would cheerfully massacre the beasts, if that meant he could avoid the crowding. Apparently all of the kids took his presence at the Ball as a sign they were allowed to bug him and it didn’t help that the French champion – Fleur or something - was very taken with his companion.

Kiritsugu seemed the only one sane among the drooling masses of teenage males, thus the young Veela had fixated on him almost immediately after the end of dancing, chatting with him about this and that, she even managed to get him to dance with her. Kirei himself was asked by some redheaded girl in plain red robe - she was blushing and stammering like there was no tomorrow, besotted little thing she was. Kirei had declined the offer, citing he wasn’t feeling well and it wasn’t exactly a lie - he really, truly didn’t feel well, what with the corridor practically swimming in front of his eyes. 

He swallowed, tasting iron and copper in his mouth, despite not consuming anything this evening. He wasn’t foolish enough to eat where anybody could get anything in either his food or drink when the security was more lax than usual. 

“Kirei?” He jerked at the sound, but didn’t open his eyes. He knew the voice enough not to.

“Are you feeling well?” 

Kirei suppressed a wave of irritation at the question. “Quite opposite.” He snapped out, wincing at his own harsh voice. A cool hand pressed against his forehead, making him lean against it to feel more of the blessed coolness. He scented the mix of cigarettes, ice cold wind and gunpowder, unconsciously relaxing as he inhaled the smell. 

“Sorry.” Kiritsugu’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Want me to get you to our room?” Another hand joined the first, massaging his left temple, and if Kirei would’ve been a lesser man, he would’ve purred his relief out. Slumping forward, his head collided with Kiritsugu’s left shoulder, making the young man squeak with alarm before he was hesitantly enfolded within a loose embrace. 

“Hurts. So much.” He managed to get out before choking as the new wave of agony pierced through his skull. 

Distantly, he heard a curse, and a murmur. A moment or two of blessed stillness later, he was prodded to follow, which he complied to with stumbling steps. 

When Kirei would find the source of this little distraction, the priest swore to himself – he would give back the agony suffered tenfold. 

Screw mercy, retribution was always the way to go. 

 

* * *

Kiritsugu frowned as he helped Kirei to sit on the bed. He didn’t make any excuses to their dates – having Kirei safe and sound and not nearly homicidal in the small distance away from the crowd took a priority. Though… now it was the second time the headache attack was so strong as to practically debilitate Kirei - and that was saying much for the man who could fight through having been wounded with one of Kiritsugu’s Origin bullets.

He had been uneasy when he hadn’t spotted Kirei at his usual spot, semi-hidden from the horde of his admirers and well-wishers. However, he had become truly concerned when he didn’t feel him in the room anymore, thus making the sweep of the places the priest could hide within.

(Somehow, he had managed to acquire Kirei radar, partial thanks to the Seals.)

Now, he awkwardly divested Kirei of the  haori, followed by  obi, hakama and  kimono, but let the  nagajuban on, if only for the sake of modesty. It was strange, he mused, how one of the strongest men he had dubious privilege to know, could be so easily crippled by a simple headache. 

Only, the headache in itself was anything but simple. He and Kirei had noticed that close proximity to that Potter kid was a strong no-no, but tonight, Kiritsugu was sure Kirei wasn’t in any vicinity of the kid. And he still got migraine from hell. 

“Stay here. I will bring you something to drink.” He muttered to the priest who nodded wearily, supporting himself with the arms as not to just crumple on the bed covers. And if that wasn’t a sign of weakness, Kiritsugu didn’t know what it could be. 

Kirei usually didn’t let himself to show any weakness – showing weakness in his brand of business meant being killed by his opponent not a moment later, and well, as much as Kiritsugu knew of him, both from dreams and real life, which really wasn’t Kirei’s forte. But right now, Kirei was incapacitated, and briefly, Kiritsugu entertained the notion of getting rid of the priestly pest, and just as quickly, he dismissed it. Irrational and dangerous choice, but the Magus Killer stuck with it. 

Soon, he returned, with a glass of water in his hand. “Drink.” He quietly commanded the priest as he lifted the glass to the man’s lips. Wordlessly, Kirei complied, drinking the liquid with small, greedy gulps. Dark eyes looked at him, something soft glinting in their depths for a moment before vanishing again.

Kiritsugu helped the priest under the covers, tucking him in before preparing to depart again, only to be halted by a hand on his wrist. 

“Stay.” A small whisper implored him, but Kirei’s eyes were closed. Unable to help himself, Kiritsugu reached out, to ruffle the short locks. “I will.” He promised, his voice low. “I just have to give a notice to the girls that we had retired to our room.”

He received a small glare for his explanation before the man burrowed himself deeper in the covers. “Fine.”

Kiritsugu watched, amused. Did that good-for-nothing priest just sounded like a petulant little boy?

He smiled. “Okay.” 

Only when he was out of the room, he allowed himself to chuckle. 

Yes. Yes, one Kirei Kotomine, the bane of Death Apostles and other unholy things everywhere did indeed sounded like a cranky little boy.

 

* * *

 

_**/To Be Continued/** _


	4. We were never welcome here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter or Fate/Zero or any of their characters - curiously, I do own this little story. 
> 
> Shout Out: Another one bites the dust. You know, I had a grand ball poking and prodding our favorite boys into situations when they are uncomfortable, especially Kiritsugu. At first, I thought that this story would be more about Kirei, but Kiritsugu just had to come around the corner and unintentionally become a glory hog in this one /amused/. The thing is, both of them are really stubborn on getting together, and kind of dense in romantic matters when it comes to it, reason why this is not under romance category. But as they say, slow and steady wins the race…once again, thanks to Luna13 for being an absolute saint while beta-ing this story. 
> 
> Warnings: AU-verse, SLASH - you know it, Kirei (Harry)/Kiritsugu, Weasley twins getting their comeuppance and Kirei rehabilitation in progress.

* * *

Days passed onward, and soon, Christmas evening rolled around. The air was buzzing with laughter, expectations, gossip and merriness, and the teachers gave up to commandeering the attention of their pupils, however that didn’t mean they exempted them from doing the homework.

The decorations were all around the castle and the suits were shined to perfection once again, making the castle seem less breezy and drafty, what with the warm lights spilling on the floors and walls.

‘Tis was season to be merry, and of course, certain mischievous tricksters took care that was also very amusing for the crowds and their potential customers.

One of their little inventions was in a quite high demand and simultaneously highly dreaded.

Usually, being pranked by the self-same invention was a cause of laughter, amusement and rarely horror and disgust; most of the people who had been pranked took the prank in a good humor.

However, the good pranksters and self-styled inheritors of Marauders’ Will chose quite an interesting target, and come hell or high water, they were determined to obtain their reactions for the Wall of Fame for their particular prank.

One Roger Davies was quite happy with the results of the pranks, however the Durmstrang pair quite adamantly refused to be caught in the act, and Hogwarts pair didn’t care. Violette de la Fére was also among the ones that were uncatchable, so the Twin Prank Terrors of Gryffindor aimed to catch the notorious Fourth Champions in their little net.

It was hard. It was frustrating. It was downright impossible.

Honestly, how hard was to get either Kirei or Kiritsugu under the mistletoe?!

However, one day - or evening, Lady Luck was on the unsuspecting pranksters’ side.

Both Kiritsugu and Kirei were walking to their little place at the Ravenclaw table, minding their own business, when their limbs were suddenly locked in the place, making them unable to move.

The Hall stopped to see the spectacle, and some of the targets of the prank recognized the spell quickly. Muffled snickers and gleeful looks were aimed at the bewildered pair.

“What the fuck?” Kiritsugu managed, dark eyes wide. He couldn’t step anywhere – it was as if his feet were glued to the ground. He turned around, looking at Kirei, only to find him to be in the same predicament.

Suspiciously, he looked up, but there was nothing. He tried to move again, but nothing.

One dark eyebrow twitched.

“Ooh, look who was caught in the Web of Love!” An annoying kid cackled out at the Gryffindor’s table, making Kiritsugu glare at the brat. If he remembered right, it was that yappy commentator, Jordan something. “Hey, guys! You _do_ know what that means?”

Dread pooled in the two victims’ guts.

“Gettin’ kissy!” Another guy hollered out, grinning.

“Hells to no!” Kiritsugu snapped. There was no force in heaven or hell that would convince him to actually smooch the shitty priest on his lips!

“You’d better!” Another girl cat-called. “If I see right, you have Full Fun French Edition!” The howls and squeals reached almost deafening quality.

“The fuck we will!” Kiritsugu hollered back, his dark eyes wild and wide, like ones of a trapped wild animal.

“Make kissy or dinner missy,” Someone cackled above them, making Kiritsugu stiffen with fury and Kirei narrow his eyes.

“PEEVES!” McGonagall hollered. “Let them go this instant!” The Gryffindor Head of house seemed to be positively steamed, however only the ones sitting nearest to her could see the edges of her mouth trembling with suppressed mirth.

Peeves snickered. “No can do, Missy Whiskers. Besides, how can I let them go if I am not holding them?” he asked in a faux-innocent voice, prompting a new wave of laughter and catcalls. A small bit of enchanted mistletoe dangled from his fingers tauntingly as the ghost frolicked above his prisoner’s head, just a little out of their reach. “Kissy, kissy, boys. Or do you find a small itty bitty smooch too icky for ya?”

“I have a fucking – “ ‘Wife’ Kiritsugu wanted to say, only to cut himself off.

“Mr. Emiya, language!” McGonagall rebuked the young man.”

“Oh shut up, Kitty.” Kiritsugu volleyed back, making her splutter with shock. “I can use damn well any language I fucking want to, especially considering the situation your windbag of a ghost has gotten me into!”

“Ooh, ickle Kerry dun’ wanna kissy ickle Koki.” Peeves cooed, earning a truly poisonous look from the Magus Killer who was halfway to drag his trusty Contender out and waste of ammunition or not, blow his ghostly head to the kingdom come.

“Give me the mistletoe.” Kirei’s demand was cool, as if he were ordering his everyday helping of curry.

“Nooo, don’t wanna.” Peeves drawled out, making a small flip in the air. “You know the rules, boyses. Get kissy or dinner missy, mwah, mwah! “ He made an exaggerated kissing faces and sounds while he twirled above their heads, just out of their reach.

Kiritsugu’s hand grasped the Contender. “Listen, poltergeist.” He began his voice cold. “I am giving you to the count of three to burn the damned thing and save your hide. If not – “ He shrugged. “You won’t be long for this world.”

Peeves’ eyes mock-widened at the man’s threat. “Ooh, big words from a little man that can’t even move, much less touch the little ole Peevesie! He cackled.

Kiritsugu’s eyed became chips of black ice. “Wanna bet?” he asked silkily. “Fine by me. Three, two, o – mmph!”

His little countdown was interrupted by Kirei’s lips forcing themselves on his own ones, warm, spicy tongue dancing with his own, and distantly, he heard the people cheer and holler them on.

A moment later, the duo separated, both of the participants frazzled and wide-eyed.

Kiritsugu’s head immediately snapped up, his furious eyes zeroing on poltergeist’s mocking form. “Awe, didn’t enjoy it?” Peeves cackled as he wiggled his ghostly butt at them. “Party-poopers, the both of you!”

“PEEVES!” The assassin practically roared out. That was it, the ghost was gonna get it, no ifs ands or buts! “Kirei, let me fucking go! I have to exterminate that Root-damned asshole – “

Kirei’s other hand wound itself firmly around the assassin’s waist, immobilizing him quite efficiently, while the other hand already held the hilts of Black Keys. With nary a word, three glowing blue blades snapped in existence, and the unfortunate mistletoe was skewered by them, burning the small weed into nothingness.

In the next fragment of a moment, the three blades were hurled at the still cackling poltergeist, making him screech with pain as he was pinned to the ceiling, wiggling helplessly against the wall, being unable to pass through it as he was to do.

The Hall quieted. Even Kiritsugu ceased trying to get out of in Kirei’s hold.

“Oh holy Merlin.” One of the spectators murmured, and the others couldn’t help but mutely echo the sentiment.

“It seems that there is a naughty soul in a sore need of correction of its doings.” Kirei’s low mutter was heard by all. “Why didn’t you send for a holy priest if that poltergeist is truly so very annoying?”

“Mr. Potter – “ Dumbledore began -

“-Kotomine Kirei.” Kirei calmly interrupted him. “Or, as I’ve already told you, Father Kirei.” Dull brown eyes looked at the centenarian wizard calmly, disregarding the wailing and sobbing ghost pinned on the ceiling.

“Father Kirei,” Dumbledore corrected himself as he stood up, blue eyes twinkling behind his glasses solemnly, “Peeves is a part of Hogwarts, of its inventory and legacy. Truly, he is a mischievous spirit, but he doesn’t wish ill to anyone.”

Kirei tipped his chin up, but not relinquishing his hold on Kiritsugu yet. “Are you trying to tell me, Dumbledore, that you are knowingly holding back six souls from their eternal rest on the account that they are ghosts and thus indispensable part of Hogwarts’ inventory?” He questioned the old man calmly, making the crowd mutter with confusion.

“They could’ve gone away any time they wished to.” A bushy-haired girl - Hermione - piped up. “They are not bound to this place, except by their own free will.”

“If they had their last rites, then your theory would be correct.” Kirei countered.

“But what about Myrtle, then?” Hermione asked stubbornly. “She had been killed by a Basilisk, and as far as I know, she was buried with the last rites done. So why is she still lingering here?”

Kirei paused, thinking on how to explain to the naïve girl the harsh facts of reality without giving out too many secrets of the Church.

“Because this functions similarly to the Fuyuki City.” Kiritsugu interrupted, confusing the listeners. “They are sustained by magic of the castle and ley lines. Why do you think they can’t exist anywhere else than in Hogwarts?”

Kirei looked at the wild-haired assassin. “Are you sure about it?” he asked in Japanese, dark eyebrows furrowing.

Kiritsugu looked at him. “It’s similar enough.” He muttered back. “Of course, there is no such catalyst like Holy Grail to correctly sustain their appearance, and they lack anything that could elevate them to Heroic Spirits. Even if they had their last rites done, the link to the mana - or magic – wasn’t severed.”

“And because they had magic in their former lives, the situation was complicated even further,” Kirei concluded, nodding to himself.

“If you are quite done with your chat, we would like to know that too.” Dumbledore roused them from their little world, making Kirei blink slowly as he once again became aware of the witnesses.

“Ah. I apologize, exchange of professional opinions. As it is, Emiya already told you the cause. Only, because they had magic in their former lives, their souls had easier time to access to it, if only to convert to magic as their primary source of sustainment. “

“So that’s why Professor Lupin’s spell was efficient on Peeves!” Hermione exclaimed, only to flush under the attention her little quip brought on her person.

“Indeed.” Kirei nodded. “However, it isn’t healthy for the dead to exist on this plane indefinitely. The funeral rites work like a severing charm, to remind the soul in question that it’s not its’ place to linger in the material world anymore. The longer the soul remains in the world of living, the greater the chance of it turning into a ghoul or any other kind of unpleasant creature, not to mention how they could be corrupted and then used for ill intentions or rituals. “

The hall collectively shuddered.

“Still, the Hogwarts ghosts that remain here, by their will are quite sane.” Dumbledore spoke up again. “I believe they are no danger to children. So please let Peeves go - “

“Poltergeists like him are blight upon this world.” Kirei retorted quite firmly. “Yes, you say now that he is quite harmless with his pranks and whatnot. However, the fact remains that he is singularly the most unhelpful ghost in the castle, leading children to fake staircases, plying them with dung or ink bombs, destroying castle property and causing all kinds of mischief. That may be quite an innocent picture to you, but I assure you - it will takes very little to turn  poor little Peeves into a ghoul of the worst sort, the one who would prey and quite happily feast on the innocent children you covet to teach so very much. If you can’t rein his so-called mischievousness in, then it’s better to kill him than to let him sow harm upon the innocent living.“

The hall erupted in protests; the loudest among houses were Ravenclaw, and surprisingly, Slytherin.

It took a bang or two from Headmaster Dumbledore’s own wand to quieten the masses.

“And what about the other ghosts? Are they also a danger to the living?” Dumbledore inquired, his voice tired.

“We are tired, Headmaster.”

The hall jerked, and there were some small screams when they found out that it was the Bloody Baron who spoke out.

The elegantly clothed man, covered in ghostly blood stood up and floated in front of Kirei. Cold eyes of the dead looked into the lifeless ones of the living.

“Father Kirei was right. We remained here, because of our foolish wishes and desires – “ Here, the Bloody Baron snuck a small glance to the Grey Lady, before turning around to look at the aged Headmaster. “But as dead entities, we cannot realize them. We tried. We lived, if our mere existence can even be named as such. We have seen many generations pass through these halls, and we have been here for so long that you almost rightfully counted us among the school inventory.” At the last two words, his lips lifted in an ironic little smirk. “Future is not something that would belong to the ones who are long dead and their bodies already ashes and dirt. Future is for the ones who live.”

His voice echoed through the hall, somber and firm, and for some reason, nobody dared to interrupt him.

“Let us go.”

Solemnly, the Grey lady stood up and joined to the Bloody Baron’s side, not looking at him even once. Slowly, almost reluctantly, both Headless Nick and Fat Friar joined the duo, and surprisingly Binns, stood up.

“Even you, Cuthbert?” Dumbledore asked sadly.

Old eyes behind small oval glasses flashed. “I never imagined you would take me for a fool, Albus.” The frail ghost spoke sharply, surprising many people who knew him to be quite… dull. “I know my time had been way passed, and believe it or not, even I get fed up with droning on and on about Goblin Wars. While it was kind of you to keep me as a part of teaching staff, it’s not kind to the young’uns. Because I died thinking only about teaching Goblin Wars, my ghostly existence reflected my desire. I’ve subjected many generations to an useless blabber about them, but history is more than just those Wars and Wizarding traditions. I’ve waited on you to release me, but you hadn’t. So don’t you dare begrudge me for taking a chance you have denied me for more than seventy years!” The ghost’s previously dull voice was quite lively when he berated his soon to be ex-employer.

Dumbledore lowered his head. The hall was restless, but nobody dared to speak. “As you wish, old friend.” He finally said, his jovial voice for once solemn and a little guilty. “What about the Fat Friar and you, Nick?” He addressed the Gryffindor ghost.

Sheepishly, Nearly Headless Nick scratched his head, only to have it fall aside much to the disgust of his audience. Coughing with embarrassment, the ghost put it on his neck correctly. “I agree with Baron and Binns, Headmaster. While it had been fun to see so many generations, it is time for us to depart. “

“But what about your ambition to become Totally Headless Nick?” One of the Gryffindors spoke out, with agreeing murmurs from his house.

Nearly Headless Nick shrugged. “Can’t be helped. Some of the goals can’t be reached, and mine was one as such. Besides, it’s a waste of time to agonize over something that can’t be helped when I could, quite literally, move onto greener pastures.”

“Just as he said,” Fat Friar added, his cheerful demeanor for once dimmed in a gentle smile. “God didn’t create us to live on Earth forever - everything has to perish when their time comes. For us ghosts, it’s no different. We managed to cheat Death out of her due, but eventually, Death finds and reaps us all. And as much as I would miss you,” He addressed the silently crying Hufflepuffs, “I know that you are a hardworking lot that would surely succeed in your lives. But when you have time…” He smiled a small, sheepish smile, “Remember us, even if it’s just for a little while. Stay strong. Work hard. Be happy. And have fun!”

The atmosphere was now quite solemn, complete opposite of the cheerful one that reigned through the room just half an hour before.

“I can go home?” A small voice asked, making heads snap to the entrance.

And there she was, clad in an outdated Ravenclaw uniform, with some pimples and thick glasses’ frames on her face. Slowly, she floated in the room, looking only at Kirei, dark eyes behind bottle glasses huge and hopeful “I can go home now? I won’t have to wait to haunt that horrible Olivia Hornby anymore?” Her voice was quiet, as if she were afraid that it was a dream, a beautiful, unreachable dream.

“Yes, my daughter. You can go home. You don’t have to live here anymore.” Kirei replied calmly. “Do you want to go home?”

With a wail, the girl threw herself against Kirei, passing right through Kiritsugu who became an interesting shade of blue, and her arms looping around the priest’s shoulder as her body shook with sobs.

Kirei simply patted her on the back, his face solemn, as if he wasn’t feeling the cold emanating from her. After a minute or two, the girl finally decided to part from his person floating out of Kiritsugu who nearly slouched onto the floor with relief. He glared at the ghost girl half-heartedly, but she had the eyes only for the priest.

“What do you need?” Dumbledore asked, his voice defeated.

Lifeless eyes looked at him briefly. “Nothing from you.” Kirei retorted, as he finally released Kiritsugu who gave him a filthy glare before schooling his face into an imperturbable mask as he continued to stand beside the priest. “Are you ready?” He asked the ghosts, all of them nodding or murmuring a small confirmation.

The crowd was quiet as they looked, transfixed, as he reached into his frock, pulling out the red hilts, three in each hand, wedged firmly in the groves between the fingers. Closing his eyes, he concentrated. His lips moving noiselessly in some kind of a chant.

Kiritsugu frowned - this was strange. Usually, Kirei would’ve activated the keys as soon as he drew them out of their respective places –

-light from warm golden blades reflecting in his eyes, the energy humming through the space and resonating with something deep within him, warm, alien, dangerous –

The people murmurs escalated, some of the braver souls claiming there was some kind of a scam going on, only to abruptly shut up when golden blades erupted from the hilts, warm and bright and soothing, and in the next moment, the blades were gone, gone, gone –

Toward their targets and Kiritsugu had to suppress a flinch as he remembered similar blades, only in ice blue curving toward him, lethal and intent to taste his body –

And then, there was a bright flare of light, too warm, too soft, too gentle, yet unspeakably pure so he had to close his eyes shut because he couldn’t look at it, even if he wanted to and he didn’t want to, he was too unworthy, too

(scared),

to do something like that.

Moment later, the hilts clattered on the stone floor with a dull sound, their purpose done, and when he opened his eyes, the ghosts vanished as if they weren’t even there to begin with.

Grave silence reigned in a brightly lit and cheerfully decorated hall.

Eyes followed the priest when he approached the seemingly harmless little red T-shaped things and picked them up, eyeing his dark clothes, his measured gait and smooth movements, how he crouched to collect his strange knives –

Indeed, if they weren’t sure he was dangerous, this little show just now proved that one Kotomine Kirei was a force to be reckoned with, and the damning part was, nobody knew his exact capabilities, aside from his scruffy-looking partner, and Kiritsugu wasn’t inclined to blabber them out anytime soon.

“I believe we overstayed our welcome for today.” Kirei’s voice made them all flinch or recoil from their reverie. “So if you would excuse us – “ He paused, looking at the old Headmaster, who looked every bit of his years inquiringly, only to receive a slow nod and dismissive wave.

“Of course, Kotomine.” They noticed - how could they not - the lack of honorifics included in permission. “Go back to your rooms and have a Merry Christmas.”

The last part was ironic, because suddenly, nobody seemed inclined to have a ‘Merry Christmas’ in the light of recent events.

* * *

 

If they were left alone before, now they - Kiritsugu included, even if he hadn’t done anything in the ghost fiasco - were given a wide berth whenever they decided to roam through the castle. Of course, there were whispers - some awed, some scared and there were always the hateful ones - how dare those two disrespectful foreigners tarnish our culture, surely exterminating the Hogwarts’ Ghosts wasn’t necessary, they had no right - and if Kiritsugu noticed that a certain pair of twins followed them around all the more because of Kirei’s little stunt - honestly, it set him on edge, being scrutinized like that, and every little bit of his assassin training was practically howling within his mind that this was no good, they had lost the advantage to surprise the target.  

Of course, an article from one esteemed Rita Skeeter made them even more into societal lepers than they already had been. The good thing was that Luna was left alone by her little tormentors. (Nobody wanted to tangle with priest who permanently - and effortlessly - vanished Peeves, after all.)

One night, there was a sharp rapping on the wood of the door, making Kiritsugu frown in confusion. They didn’t get many visitors, except from Luna and when Kirei had dancing lessons with that Greengrass girl. But Luna didn’t knock - she never needed to, much to Kiritsugu’s frustration and Kirei’s curious amusement, Greengrass was excluded, since that little show she too had avoided them as if they were sick with the black plague.

Silently, he picked up his knife - no need to alert them what kind of a weapon Contender actually was, and exchanging quick glance with Kirei, he headed to the door.

The rapping repeated, now harder and seemingly more impatient.

Kirei was at the door before Kiritsugu, handling a heavy encyclopedia in his right hand, making it seem he had been in the middle of reading. Well, he was, but it was always good to make possible enemy underestimate them.

Besides, Kiritsugu was sure that Kirei wouldn’t have any problems braining the poor fool who thought to attack him with it. Briefly, he contemplated who should be sorry for more - the book because of its possible mistreatment or the fool’s skull, as being brained by that kind of book would undoubtedly hurt, and that was without Kirei’s strength to give it an additional oomph.

‘The book.’ He decided idly. Because fools were dime a dozen, and encyclopedia was an innocent possible victim in the whole scenario he had just thought up.

He saw Kirei open the door a little, and then, before he could close it back, a cat slunk, yellow, lamp-like eyes looking around cunningly. Kirei stood in front of the door for a moment, before closing it, frowning in confusion.

“Nobody was here.” He announced, causing Kiritsugu’s eyebrows to raise.

“Nobody?” the assassin asked, intrigued. “But the knocking was quite insistent.” He leaned back, releasing the grip on his trusty knife.

His eyes fell on the cat. It was a mangy, skeletal thin thing, of an indescribable color, somewhere between dullest gray and blandest brown, somehow managing to exude the feeling of disdain of all emotions, as if the two humans it was forced to room with were below its' notice. Its most noticeable feature, the eyes, were yellow, glinting eerily in the light of fire from fireplace and enchanted candles. Its tail was swishing in the air, showing its owner’s grumpiness. Pale whiskers twitched as the creature’s eyes looked at Kiritsugu.

Maybe it was only the Magus’ imagination, but feline eyes widened marginally and their furry visitor stepped back a delicate step.

His eyebrows quirked. “Oh? It seems you are quite intelligent creature.” Kiritsugu murmured, making the cat preen for a scant moment, before its eyes narrowed again as it turned around, looking up at Kirei. And it was a foolish emotion to feel, but Kiritsugu suddenly felt quite slighted when their feline visitor fixated on Kirei, meowing imperiously, but not budging an inch.

Dark eyes narrowed. The cat meowed again, now more insistently, just shy of outright yowl. Tail swishing against the floor, it’s eyes never left the priest as it pawed on the air as if demanding for his partner to bend down and pet it.

“Since when did you manage to become a cat magnet, Kirei?” Kiritsugu asked casually, sprawling back to the couch, but still cradling the knife in a precarious position, just out of habit, or… in case. In this weird castle, nobody knew whether or not the next thing (or being) crossing their ways would have bad intentions toward them. Better safe than sorry, and this cat was not an exception, despite of its pitiful mangy, skeletal body and lampshade-like eyes’ glory.

Kirei’s eyebrows furrowed. “I never was the ‘cat magnet’ you are speaking of. “ He replied back, his voice calm, but Kiritsugu could hear the undertones of confusion in his monotone voice. Lately, he had become good in understanding Kirei-speak, and just as annoyingly, Kirei seemed to have a sixth sense to actually understanding him, and wasn’t that just grand? Inwardly grimacing, Kiritsugu resolved to decrease their sparring matches a notch. It wouldn’t do to be completely predictable, after all.

* * *

The cat’s eyes narrowed when its owner’s new favorite human’s attention was diverted from it by that Wrong One. It raised the voice a notch, making both of the human occupants actually wince at the screech, and it lashed out with claws extended, allowing them to catch on the fabric and tugging the said fabric down sharply.

Oh the indignity of having to beg.

If it weren’t for its’ human being happier than ever, the cat wouldn’t have lowered to practically begging in a million years. Or, never.

“I think the cat wants you to kneel.” The Wrong One’s voice spoke out helpfully. The Smelly - because he was always smelling about something that itched its nose, both pleasantly so and making it want to sneeze with irritation - frowned again, but acquiesced to the Wrong One’s suggestion.

Making a small pleased sound, the cat raised its head even higher, looking into those muddy eyes. It placed its paws on the Smelly One’s knees, making a louder purr when those fingers awkwardly petted its head and then gently scratched the underside of its chin.

Hmm. Maybe that particular human was redeemable, after all.

But… No. It had a mission and as much as it would have loved to be petted further, there was only so much of a dignity a cat could expound in one day.

Butting harder into the fingers, when they slid down to scratch its underside again, and making sure the fingers grazed it.

“Oh? Seems the feline has something for us.”

Hallelujah, praise the feline gods. This one was actually smart to cotton on so quickly. Rewarding the human with a quick purr, its tail twitched impatiently to be released of its burden.

And of course, the clever, clever human complied at once.

It felt the string around its neck to loosen, and then being gently pulled off, with a small scrap of paper on it.

And what happened after that, was none of its business.

Swiftly raising on its feet, the cat sashayed to the door and pawed at it in a strange order, making a small cat flap appear. Looking smugly at the flabbergasted Wrong One, it lifted its tail dismissively and vanished into the darkness to its beloved human.

“You have done well, my sweet. Come on; let’s find you a dish of a fatty tuna.” Its’ owner’s hoarse tones greeted her, and it was enveloped into a warmth of old clothes, smell of dust, oil and iron, along with its own unique fragrance marking its human. Purring loudly, it butted into its human’s hands as both of them vanished into one of the secret passages, a scant second before the Wrong One hastily opened the door in an attempt to find them.

Let it never be said that Mrs. Norris didn’t know how to reward those who aided her human in his quest to keep their home in pristine condition.

 

* * *

Frowning, Kiritsugu closed the door. He had been right - the cat was more than it appeared. And it vanished just as suddenly as it appeared, the damn thing.

“Kiritsugu.” He was torn out of his sulking by Kirei’s voice.

“I think we just got a hint on how to solve the little riddle of our egg.”

Blinking, Kiritsugu waked to Kirei, who wordlessly offered him the small scrap of parchment. On it, there were written only seven words in an almost ineligible scrawl.

“Prefect bathroom. Pine Fresh. Bring the egg.”

The duo looked at each other.

“We have nothing to lose at this point.”

* * *

Finding out the location of prefect bathroom was ridiculously easy. Mainly because Kiritsugu had used his hypnotizing technique on one hapless Hufflepuff to get the directions, and it had already been so late that the curfew was undoubtedly in effect already. So their only concern was to avoid the prefect patrols which were trudging through the halls and trying to catch any mischief doers in action. Not that they enthusiastically did their duty, because the halls were dark, cold and dead at that time of the night.

Ghost hour, indeed; only without any ghosts this time.

Both of them had crept through the halls silently, making nary a noise while stepping on the stone. Kirei noticed Kiritsugu faintly shivering in the cold winter air, but right now, he couldn’t do anything about it. He had already known that Kiritsugu didn’t fancy cold overly much, and this was the only crack of a failure the Magus Killer allowed himself to have, been that consciously or not. That also meant that Kirei would be subjected to a human ice cube when they will get back to their rooms, which was not really a prospect to look forward for, but something in Kiritsugu’s snuggle attempts into his own body was… charming.

So he tolerated them.

Or so he wanted to convince himself.

Kirei looked at the nape of the assassin’s neck, noting the paleness in contrast of dark hair and his usual attire. It had been a wonder the man wasn’t mistaken for vampire, what with him being so pale already. If Kirei were a little more imaginative, he would have said that Kiritsugu was like he had stepped out of one of those noir movies, but as he wasn’t, he could only wonder about the sharpness of colors presented as Emiya Kiritsugu.

Blank. Drab. Unassuming.

Dangerous.

“Kirei!” A hissed whisper tugged him back to reality, making him blink as those dark eyes looked at him sharply. “Keep up with the program, will ya?”

Of course, sometimes Kiritsugu slipped back to the speech of the island he had been born on, the soft slant of the words in sharp contrast to the harshness of the accent. It was like a verbal tic, when Kiritsugu was really emotional, like with Peeves or in the dream cycle.

He managed a sharp nod. “Yes. I apologize.” Kiritsugu looked at him weirdly, as if he had said something strange, but then shrugged and released his sleeve, much to Kirei’s disappointment.

(But why was he disappointed, then?)

The halls and staircases looked quieter, more menacing in the darkness and occasional torch light. It seemed that the castle was, after a long day, asleep once again, and sometimes, the people in portraits moved, mumbling or rustling as they too, slept and dreamed.

Kirei clutched the egg tighter to his chest, forcing himself to concentrate on surroundings, and not on his impromptu guide through the maze that was Hogwarts castle. It seemed that they had been trudging through the castle for almost half a night already.

Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea, after all.

But then, Kiritsugu emitted a soft triumphant exclamation and he hurried to a door. A hurriedly whispered password and then, the door opened, letting them in.

* * *

Kiritsugu had to admit, they didn’t spare the expenses when it came to Prefect Bathroom. The room was dominated by a tub, as large as a small pool, with the numerous taps hanging from the wall, in different sizes and shapes. The space before tub was wide, left wall dominated by randomly shaped shower heads, and right one had a bench and hooks to place the clothes on as not to wrinkle them in the shapes of eagles’, snakes’, badgers’ and lions’ heads. The entire place was done in warm beige color, likened to a desert sand, with darker accents for the hooks, and bronze shower heads. On the wall, there was also a mural of a mermaid which was brushing her golden hair, idly swishing her amethyst and emerald colored tail in the water, her breasts free and swaying slightly with the movements as she soundlessly mouthed a song to herself, careless of the jewels pilled beside her.

However, the one thing that Kiritsugu relished the most was warmth.

The bathroom was warm, almost toasty so, to a profound relief of one cold-bitten Magus Killer. He never did understand just why the winter time was needed, aside for childish delights. On the island where he had lived as a child, there had been a mild, temperate climate, even in winter, only the summers were hot and heavy. So it had been a shock when he first encountered the wintertime outside the island. Natalia had a good snicker or two on account of his unfortunate encounters with cold and snow, and like the sadistic bitch she was, she of course just had to do most of his training in Russia. So Kiritsugu got a healthy resistance to cold climates and even healthier appreciation of warmth and warm clothes.

He barely kept himself from melting into a puddle of human-shaped goo right then and there. Only the thought of their mission and that it wasn’t exactly advisable to reveal that particular weakness to Kirei kept him attentive enough.

It was a little bit shameful how the bane of Magi everywhere could be so quickly defeated by a quick spot of warmth.

“So what now?” Kirei asked him, jerking him out of his appreciative musings of the warmth permeating through his cold clothes to his skin.

Sluggishly, he blinked.

“Bathroom. “ He said, dazed, as his eyes watched the mermaid sightlessly.

The mermaid.

Blinking quickly, he forced himself to concentrate.

“One of us will have to go under water and open the egg.” He said, dark eyebrows furrowing. “The voices are terrible when sung above the water, but maybe under the surface, the sound will be better.”

He looked at Kirei. The priest had placed the egg on the bench carefully, despite of it being almost indestructible by normal means.

(Kiritsugu was tempted to just shot it with one of his Origin bullets, them being needed for the Task notwithstanding. That bullet would have been wasted, but if it were for a good cause…well, it would have been a small sacrifice.)

“No.” Kirei replied, making Kiritsugu glare at him. “At least, not only that. What if we both are needed to listen to the message to decode it? It would have been better if both of us would get into the water.”

Kiritsugu made a sour face. That son of a bitch was actually making sense, much to his dismay. Not that he didn’t want to go into that heavenly, watery warmth, but one thing was to sleep with the shitty priest - he was just a warm furnace, Kiritsugu swore to God - but it was a whole another kettle of fish, if you excuse the pun, to actually get naked and into the water with the aforementioned priest.

Once again, he asked himself just why he had been so imbecilic as to accept the Einzberns’ offer when it had been on the table.

Oh right. His ideals.

Dammit. Maybe it was time to search for some new ones, if his original ones managed to get him in trouble so effortlessly.

After he strangled that bastard of a priest.

Who wasn’t that good a furnace to snuggle against. Really, he wasn’t.

(Kiritsugu knew he was deluding himself, but everything was for the greater good, wasn’t it?)

* * *

Amused, Kirei watched the byplay of the emotions on the Magus Killer’s face. Really, for someone who was reportedly expressionless, Kiritsugu was remarkably easy to read if one knew how, and Kirei had amassed a heap load of tells in the time they were forced to cohabitate their rooms, even if he sometimes got them wrong. But right now, Kiritsugu was wavering between being annoyed and apprehensive for some reason.

Of course. They had seen each other in different states of undress, but never naked. Half-naked, yes, but that was it. They had slept together, so Kirei was intimately aware of Kiritsugu’s body shape - wiry, a little cooler than his own, messy hair that tickled at his face or chest in the mornings and absurdly cold feet, along with those long, slender fingers. He wouldn’t go as far as to say they were the fingers of an artist - they lacked the elegance for them being such, and if anything, Kirei would compare them to the smooth claws of a mountain lion – deceptively fragile, but with a hidden strength within that was shown when Kiritsugu meant business. The Contender was not a toy, what with its weight and back kick, and not many people could handle the beast two-, and even less one-handed.

Lost in his musings, he barely heard water filling the bath - apparently Kiritsugu had decided to take an initiative – and began to disrobe. No sense in getting into the bath clothed, after all. The first piece he shed was gakuran, leaving him in a skin-tight black turtleneck, trousers and shoes. Next thing to go were shoes, and his feet luxuriated in the feeling of warm tiles beneath his socks, until they too, were removed and placed on a bench. He heard Kiritsugu’s clothes rustle, the sound almost overwhelmed by water’s babble, and he resisted looking at the Magus Killer out of politeness. One thing was to traipse in their rooms half-clothed, but completely another was to bare their bodies to each other, even for purpose of getting into a tub to solve the ridiculous egg.

The tension grew.

Removing the turtleneck Kirei was now only in his briefs and he finally looked at Kiritsugu.

The smaller teen’s face was set into a frown - he had already slunk out of the coat and upper part of his suit, along with shoes, leaving him in dark grey shirt and trousers, the black tie haphazardly loosened around his neck. Kirei’s eyes were glued to that slim piece of a black fabric, fingers suddenly itching to touch it and let it unravel from the loose knot it was tied in. He felt almost disappointed when Kiritsugu’s fingers tugged it loose, the fabric sliding against the dark grey background almost noiselessly before falling and finally remaining limp in its owner’s grasp. Dark eyes looked up at him and widened minutely, making Kirei want to preen at the minute expression on Kiritsugu’s face for some reason, wanting to make it more prominent. Instead of that, he tilted his head, pretending he didn’t notice the barely-there flush on his partner’s face.

He watched Kiritsugu turn around, facing the bath, as if that would somehow build an invisible barrier between the two of them, diffusing the strangely thick silence between the two. Jerkily, the assassin tugged the shirt loose, before unbuttoning it and hurriedly slipping out of it before almost throwing it to the bench,  careless as to whether the fabric would crease or not. The trousers followed, and then black socks, leaving Kiritsugu in his black boxers, thus enhancing the paleness of his skin even more. He saw the youth hesitate a little, before he suddenly came to the decision, and the boxers were shed, added to the haphazard bunch that was the assassin’s clothes.

 

* * *

Spine straight and shoulders tense, Kiritsugu fought to maintain his composure under the wayward priest’s eyes.

‘It was nothing. It was for greater good.’ It was because they really needed to survive the madness that was this tournament - he could always kill the ass when the thing was over and done with.

Or so Kiritsugu tried to console himself in a half-hearted attempt to not care about those dark brown eyes on his skin, in an attempt to disregard the prickling sensation the stare evoked within him making him both want to hide and confront the damned asshole.

Kiritsugu wasn’t stranger to the pleasures of flesh, even if most of his pursuits were mostly for a business’ sake and not solely for pleasurable side of it. He was comfortable with his body, he knew he was average and in his newly-teenaged body, he really wasn’t that much of a catch, not including random scars that wound themselves around his body, rare as they were. He had taught Irisviel the pleasures of intimate union, but there was no comparison between innocent homunculus and his ex-enemy.

The small relief was that Kirei was a priest and thus not very likely to comment of any imperfections of his body.

Finding a small bench in the water, he sat on it and closed his eyes, leaning against water-warmed tiles, trying to let the warmth do his magic, attempting to convince himself that the flush on his cheeks was because of the heat of the water and not his mortification.

A moment later, he felt the water sway as another body entered it, making his body involuntarily tense and causing him to open his eyes.

The entire setting would’ve been romantic if they weren’t there on a business. However, Kiritsugu’s eyes couldn’t help but be dragged over the priest’s body. Kirei’s skin was cast in warm tones in an unintentional contrast to his dark eyes and hair, the smooth expanse of it rippled with muscles underneath, making him look both sleek and ripped and for a small moment, Kiritsugu felt a shot of jealous awe at the man’s body - he could’ve easily been mistaken as a model on the body alone. In his right hand, he carried the golden egg, making him look like pagan supplicant to some ancient deity. Kiritsugu thanked all the lucky stars that the water level was high enough to cover the lower parts of Kirei’s body, because otherwise, the entire thing would be too awkward to deal with.

Now he only had to get the task down without ogling Kirei - or his lips - too much.

(‘Not ogling. Just examining him for any weak points to exploit later on.’ His mind piped up. Not that it made Kiritsugu feel any better.)

“So how would we proceed now?” Kirei asked, shaking Kiritsugu out of his tangle of a mental dilemma.

Kirei watched Kiritsugu blink as if confused, but the assassin gathered his wits almost in the same moment, much to Kirei’s disappointment.

(Strange, how Kiritsugu evoked so many feelings within him. The curiosity, the feeling of a kinship, amusement, and something ugly when he saw him talking to that Greengrass girl.)

“We go under, open the egg and listen to the clue.” Kiritsugu said, tilting his head and somehow, Kirei’s eyes were glued to that pale column that was the assassin’s throat.

“On the count of three?” He asked, relieved that his voice came out even.

Kiritsugu nodded.

“Let’s.”

* * *

“Come seek us where our voices sound,  
We cannot sing above the ground,   
And while you're searching ponder this;   
We've taken what you'll sorely miss,   
An hour long you'll have to look,   
And to recover what we took,   
But past an hour, the prospect's black,   
Too late, it's gone, it won't come back.”

Kiritsugu didn’t know whether he should’ve been disappointed, annoyed or concerned.

The riddle was fairly straightforward, especially when taken in context it was worded.

They would have to survive under water for an hour to recover something that was dear to them. The question now was, just what could be the thing they would ‘sorely miss’ so much they would want to retrieve it at all costs?

Kirei had his Black Keys, and Kiritsugu had his Contender, but he doubted the Wizards would be crazy enough to attempt to relieve them of their weapons just to chuck them into lake for them to salvage them. Of course, in the Tournament, their weapons were a precious commodity, even if they, with exception of the Black Keys, weren’t used yet.

Which left only one possibility.

Hostages.

Most notably, either Luna or that Greengrass girl.

Kiritsugu wanted to bash his skull against a wall. They were so fucked it wasn’t even funny.

Instead of that, he slumped in the water, glaring at the golden glow of the still open egg under the water surface.

“We will have to save someone.” Kirei’s voice rumbled beside him, and Kiritsugu was just pissed off enough to disregard the priest’s proximity in favor of seething at his own incompetence.

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid! He should have expected something like that - he should have been prepared –

But how in the name of Alaya, could he have known that he would have been dragged into this insanity when the Grail War had begun? Fuyuki city certainly didn’t demand for scuba diving in order to win the Grail War that was for certain. And now he was stranded here, grasping for straws in an effort to cobble up a feasible plan that wouldn’t blow up in their faces the moment they would be in the not so proverbial water.

“We’re fucked.” He managed to hiss out, dark eyes glued to the mockingly gentle glow of the egg’s innards. “I don’t know about you, but I definitely didn’t come here prepared to do any kind of underwater diving.” Not to mention the record for longest underwater held breath was 22 minutes, which wasn’t even remotely feasible for them to reach. Sure, Kiritsugu could use Time Alter - Triple Stagnate to minimize his usage of air, but that would in essence only slow him down, which would be unhelpful in normal situation, and they also had to account for any bad surprises of an unplanned variety. This little task was shaping to be a SNAFU at its finest.

A strong hand landed on his shoulder.

“Calm down.” Kirei’s voice rumbled into his ears. “We’ll think up something.” Kiritsugu only clenched his jaw harder, his mind racing miles in a minute.

He could hypnotize someone to summon their hostage out of the lake. However, this was not a good course to take, because he could be accused of using Imperio, even without having a wand, and instead of returning back to their cozy little room, they would’ve been thrown into Azkaban as soon as the task would have ended. Hypnotizing sentient water creatures was also out of the question for the same reason. His demolition skills were similarly unhelpful.

“How?” He pressed out as he finally looked up at Kirei. The priest’s hair was plastered against his skull, with some stubborn strands sticking out here and there, bare skin still adorned by small droplets of water which were glinting softly in the dimmed light. “My skills are useless here! And I doubt we would be allowed to acquire some scuba diving gear!” He harshly rubbed the bridge of his nose in an attempt to stave off the itching in his eyes. He would not cry, dammit!

Another hand joined the first, this one being placed on Kiritsugu’s other shoulder. Strong fingers momentarily squeezed the flesh there before relaxing again, their warm, rough weight feeling like hot brand on assassin’s skin. “You don’t have to do that alone. We will find a way. Perhaps a summoning – “

Kiritsugu’s eyebrows twitched. “Yeah, no.” He interrupted the priest coldly. “We can’t be sure who they would send us to recover - at that point we are only assuming that it would be one of those girls. Or it may be something entirely different and we could end with retrieving a wrong hostage in the best scenario. Dammit.” He growled, his head thunking against Kirei’s shoulder, body sagging helplessly. “If only we could use that Gillyweed thing….”

He felt Kirei shudder as his breath hit the man’s chest, but at that moment, he didn’t care. “Mhm.” Kirei’s voice was stilted, but he didn’t push the assassin away, leaving them standing in the middle of a pool, illuminated both by the egg’s underwater light and candles’ glow.

The trouble with Wizarding magic was, that it just wasn’t a good idea to incorporate it into a Magus’ modus operandi. Except if the individual in question wanted to blow themselves sky high. The fact was, the magic systems of Wizards and Magi were using were mutually exclusive that way - it was like having a chlorine trifluoride and expecting it not to spontaneously combust itself after adding a spark to it. There were some exceptions, like passive medical scanning Madame Pomfrey had done when they appeared in the school, but generally speaking, it wasn’t good idea for a Magus, however first or third-rate they may have been, to use anything that was inclined Wizard-magical in a Magus process or reverse. The difference was in their cores or a lack thereof. While Wizards had their cores, like glowing malleable balls of light in their chests, Magi had circuits, a pseudo-nervous system that spread through their bodies, which weren’t malleable at all, but complete opposite. While Wizards had to use wands to direct their magic, Magi were exempt of that rule, as their circuits acted as a kind of ready-made inbuilt wand. And because of that little fact, Magi everywhere were wary of Wizards - they may be stronger than Wizards, but they were lesser in number and they had no wish to become research subjects to some batshit crazy whackos in Department of Mysteries because of their ability. So they eliminated the threat with extreme prejudice.

Which left the duo at the same place they had started from - at the beginning.

“We could use divination to pinpoint their location.” Kirei continued as if he didn’t hear Kiritsugu’s little outburst. Kiritsugu made a face, but remained quiet. “And theoretically speaking we may be able to cobble up something that would let us breath under water - I was thinking of an enchanted necklace – “

Kiritsugu jerked up, his head barely missing Kirei’s chin. “Enchanted necklace? Did you forget just what kind of Origin do I have?” He hissed out, peeved at admission of his own weakness.

Kirei’s eyebrows scrunched in a thought as his lips compressed slightly. “That… could be a problem,” He finally admitted, his voice low with consternation.

“This is a problem, Kirei!” Kiritsugu snapped back, but his face was thoughtful. “It simply means we can’t use our od and we will have to rely on an outside source.”

Kirei blinked. ‘Outside source…’ Then, his eyes widened with realization.

“I think I may know how to.”

The Magus Killer stared at the priest doubtfully, but the shine in those usually deadened eyed made him hope… however reluctantly it may have been.

* * *

Usually, the Weasley Twins were more or less free of the repercussions their pranks had whaled upon them, because detentions were nothing they couldn’t deal with, and any kind of retaliation the victims of their pranks could come back were easily dispelled - honestly there wasn’t an ounce of creativity in those poor souls that were the students of Hogwarts.

However, their last invention had the unheard of consequences which they were both hailed and cursed for. On one hand, they liberated the school of Binns’ dull jabbering about Goblin rebellions, which meant the new temporary teacher was one Nymphadora Tonks, much to the kids’ excitement as Tonks, as she insisted to be called, used her Metamorphmagus’ talents to ‘liven up’ the class. On the other hand, they lost Peeves, who was their valuable pranking partner and the main reason they got a drop on the fourth Champions. Filch was seen, much to their collective horror, skipping down the corridors and humming happy ditties.

Kotomine Kirei didn’t show any inclination to get revenge on the mischievous duo, much to Gred and Forge’s relief, because there was no way, and really no they wouldn’t wish to go against someone who had disposed of their awesome ghostly pranking partner with such an extreme prejudice.

Emiya Kerry, on the other side…was the one person they definitely got on a bad side of.

“He is a priest, you bastards!” Kerry snarled at them, dark eyes flashing with anger. They had been cornered by the Magus Killer in an abandoned classroom they usually used for planning their pranks.

“Doesn’t mean you didn’t enjoy it!” Fred sing-songed back, grinning at the fuming youth. What could itty-bitty little Kerry do to them, anyway? The guy didn’t have a wand, had to be protected by his boyfriend of a priest as evidenced by Kirei Macho Posture ™, and yeah.

No danger.

They grinned at the fuming victim of their French Kiss prank daringly, sure of their victory.

But then, the punk closed his eyes, muttered something and vanished.

“Wha - !” George managed to say before he was engulfed by darkness.

* * *

He was woken up by Fred half an hour later - his twin’s frantic shaking of his shoulder and some pinches and slaps on the face finally got him out of the blissful unconsciousness well enough to remember that he had participated in a showdown with one very angry Kerry Emiya and - oh shit, what –

“George! Thank Merlin, I thought you wouldn’t wake up!” His twin’s voice was trembling with suppressed relief and just a moment later, George found himself in a tightest hug ever, courtesy of his brother.

“Whu?” Blearily, he blinked, his head still fuzzy a little with relief that they apparently came out unscathed. “Wha- happened?”

“Dunno. But Emiya - whatever he had done, it made both of us drop like potato sacks.” Fred muttered out, brows furrowed into a frown. “ When I woke up, I was woozy, but he wasn’t here anymore and there was nothing - no pranks, and believe me, I checked.”

George believed him. When it came to jokes, his twin didn’t joke, pun intended. If he said there was no prank about to be whaled upon them, then by Merlin and Morgana, George would believe him even if there were hundred people willing to swear otherwise.

“Feelin’ all fuzzy,” he muttered, and Fred chuckled. “It’s okay, it will pass soon. I was wooly like that too.”

“Strange chap, leaving us like that, ain’t he, Gred?” George smiled, and his twin nodded. “Indeed, Forge, my pal, Indeed.”

And this was supposed to be the end of it.

If only an unknown prankster hadn’t struck at the Weasleys’ Terror Twins the next morning... or the next, for a month straight. This time, there was no Peeves to pin the blame on, and both Slytherins and Ravenclaws claimed themselves to be blameless of such blasphemy as to incur the wrath of Gryffindor Pranking Kings, while Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs were quietly ecstatic that someone had apparently took things in their own hands and doled out the punishment to the Weasley twins in a number of ingenious pranks.

Like the morning when Fred came to Great Hall in female uniform, and only noticing it when Lee pointed it out to him.

Or when George spoke truth for a whole day - it was only every fifth sentence, but those who managed to cotton on were rewarded with a heap of useful information - or blackmail - about the prank-obsessed Gryffindor twins. Adrian Pucey was the one who found out that the twins had pranked him with coating the insides of his Quidditch uniform with Muggle glue that was somehow timed to activate when Slytherins were playing match against Gyffidor. Pucey almost had an apoplexy and demanded that the match in question shouldn’t have been counted, and Slytherins should have been awarded the Quidditch Cup for that year on the account of twins using illegal tactics, but he was rebuffed because it had been already done and over with, and to add an insult to injury, he had ended forcibly depilated when yanking the clothes off of his body. Pucey still wasn’t able to get rid of his ‘Baby Bottom’ nickname in certain circles. (He was still mourning his manly patches of hair.)

Or when they had to finish every sentence with ‘in our bed.’

Memorable quote: “But Professor Snape, we didn’t do anything …. In our bed!” (Unsuccessful defense of their innocence when their cauldron exploded… again. Oh the woes of being unacknowledged inventors.)

Cue Snape’s quirk of eyebrow and sarcastic drawl. “Mr. Weasley, I am certain that nobody here is actually interested in your proclivities when it pertains choosing your bed partners. And another thing - discretion is a better part of valor in such occasions. Detention tonight, 9 PM.”

Then, someone had bleached George’s hair a truly eye-watering shade of poison green, while Fred’s was a shocking shade of electric pink. Incidentally, those were the colors the duo hated the most. Didn’t help that the glamor didn’t held and they had to go ‘au naturel’ for five days until some Muggleborn take a pity on them and introduced them to a handy thing called hair color mousse. They ended having questionably grey and murky brown hair colors, respectively.

Or when they were chased by hordes of bats all over the school. How did that happen, nobody knew, and nobody was brave enough to ask Professor Snape about his possible involvement.

Or when everything they ate or drank was either without taste or too salty or spicy.

Or when they were called in for submitting racy sketches instead of their homework essays. Who knew Professor Sprout could be so vicious about possible uses of Devils Snare? And it didn’t exactly matter that neither of them had any artistic talent to begin with! Apparently stick sketches were equally, if not more so, offensive than actual portraits of the - ahem, subject - in person.

Or when instead of their wands, they found themselves holding rubber chickens. They swore it was their real wands. McGonagall was not amused.

The crown jewel was, when they got out of their showers and their towels somehow self-transfigured themselves in big spiders just when they rubbed their unmentionables.

(They owed Ronniekins big apology for the Bear Incident. Nothing more traumatizing for the fella as to unconsciously holding a towel transformed into an oversized live tarantula to their privates about to rub it in.)

Suffice to say, the Weasley twins acquired a healthy dose of paranoia, and at the end of the month, they were nearly in tears with frustration.

In the end, they looked pitiful enough for the whole school to unanimously call out for a mystery prankster to cease torturing them.

January from Hell went down in the annals in unofficial edition of Hogwarts: A History as a reminder of just why it wasn’t good to piss off a certain unmentionable fourth Triwizard Champion from Japan.

(Everyone present at that Tournament knew who the book spoke about. Incidentally, the twins called the said person ‘You-Know-Who.’ Any and all mentions of the Champion’s true name made them shudder and curl into little balls of misery. Full Fun French Mistletoe Edition was henceforth sold only when the customers signed the document that fully absolved the twins of any consequences that happened after using the said product, be that monetary, physical, emotional or otherwise. In layman’s terms, no pranking back the sellers!)

The funniest thing was, that in essence, it had been Gred and Forge pranking each other. Kiritsugu didn’t have any magic, but he did know hypnosis, and it had been a child’s play to ‘convince’ the twins to play pranks on each other and then ‘forget’ about the deed, and because of their little pact of trust, they never suspected subterfuge from each other.

Kirei wholly approved - he just thought that Kiritsugu should have held them under onslaught of pranks for the remainder of the year. Mournfully, Kiritsugu agreed, but as a consolation, he managed to acquire photos from littlest Creevey kid to commemorate the revenge and have some leverage over the hellions, not that he needed it. Really.

(And the priest’s shriveled heart grew three sizes that month. What do you know; pranks did count as a medicine in rehabilitating Kirei.)

* * *

**_/To Be Continued/_ **

 


	5. We've gone too far

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter or Fate/Zero or their characters, their respective owners do. ‘Nuff said. Wait, I do own this story. 
> 
> Shout Out: Fifth chapter. Well, what do you know, miracles happen. About the judging system for the Second Task – I based it on three Headmasters, plus Ministry representative (Crouch) and Ludo Bagman; each of them can give the competitors 10 points at the max in each round. This is the only time I am mentioning numbers. First time they weren’t important enough in a grander scheme of things, but there has to be an order for the Third Task, so numbers ahoy. Y’all can sincerely thank Luna13 for her French and it’s butchering of Queen English once again from the bottom of your hearts. 
> 
> Warnings: AU-verse, SLASH, meaning Kirei(Harry)/Kiritsugu, not so fond mentions of cold from Kiritsugu’s side and Kiritsugu being cranky little assassin who dearly loves his warmth. Oh, and some cursing in French.
> 
> Dictionary:
> 
> fils de pute - French for ‘sons of bitches’
> 
> Merde -French for shit/damn
> 
> Quel dommage – French for ‘What a pity’
> 
> Non - French for ‘isn’t it’
> 
> “Merci, merci, merci, merci indéfiniment.” – French for ‘’Thank you, thank you thank you forever.’’
> 
> Leçon – French for ‘ lesson’

* * *

February usually wasn’t a right time for swimming outside, but the organizators of the Triwizard Tournament blithely ignored that little tidbit of common wisdom and proceeded with the second task anyway. 

It was cold. So fucking damned  cold . Kiritsugu had been enjoying the cozy warmth of their shared bed, when Kirei mercilessly dragged him out of their little nest, shoving him into the bathroom to change into appropriate clothes and then led - more like dragged - him to the Great Hall to breakfast which Kiritsugu almost fell into while cursing the fact that whoever served them still denied him coffee, but he substituted for it with extra strong black tea, nothing added, and a couple of crackers with an apple, while Kirei was calmly eating his usual helping of curry.

And now, he was on a platform, along with the co-competitors, shivering and expected to disrobe and then plunge down into the ice cold waters of the lake underneath. 

Yeah, no. What a  splendid beginning of the day. 

The only consolation was that Kirei was in the same proverbial water he was, the jerk. 

Hopefully their plan would held, otherwise they would be goners. 

The Hufflepuff Champion was embracing his girlfriend protectively, while she was shaking in the cold wind, and the Durmstrang boys were stoically looking over the waters. Beauxbatons’ pair seemed to be similarly unaffected, although Kiritsugu spotted that Violette was a little paler than usual and the  Delacour girl was barely holding herself together. 

They had been told that they would have to retrieve the hostages from the lake. 

Of course. To make the matters worse, each of them had their own hostage to rescue.

Krum had Hermione, Makarov had someone called Josef, who was apparently his best friend, Fleur was to rescue her little sister while Violette was tasked with saving Alexei, her fiancé (much to the disappointment of her admirers). Cedric’s hostage was someone called Smith, and Cho’s was her best female friend, Marietta Edgecombe. 

Kiritsugu had Luna, and much to his amusement and Kirei’s consternation, the priest had to save one Ginny Weasley. The girl had been practically stalking Kirei around the Hogwarts, but never coming closer, which was a small mercy, however that didn’t mean she didn’t blush terribly when looking at him and generally acting as a fan girl. 

“It’s cold, isn’t it?” He blinked at Diggory’s question. The guy smiled at him charmingly, if a little bit uncomfortably. 

‘He wants to make a small talk  now of all times? ’ Kiritsugu closed his eyes in exasperation. It was better than to glare at the poor sod and probably make him faint from terror. While the Hufflepuff Champion wasn’t any kind of a pansy as evidenced by his crazy plan to get the egg from the dragon, Kiritsugu honestly felt he could murder the asshole if he wouldn’t shut up right now. 

No, the assassin wasn’t a morning person. Neither was Kirei, so the two of them got along splendidly in that regard. Contrarily, Diggory was a fucking ray of sunshine Kiritsugu really didn’t need right now and whom he would cheerfully poison in the next five seconds if – 

“Champions, disrobe!” Crouch called out, and thus inadvertently sparing the Huffle-ray of sunshine from nasty death.

Grumpily, Kiritsugu complied, along with other Champions. 

‘ Someone is gonna  die  when all of this will be finished,’ the Magus Killer swore to himself. Preferably the idiots who elected to have them swimming in a sub-zero cold lake waters infested with all kinds of lethal creatures. 

Kirei on the other side, seemed to be calm as cucumber. Just one more thing to hate that holy bastard for. 

He shivered as he dropped his coat, barely managing not to spit out a curse when he felt the cold air against his skin. A short glance to the other Champions revealed they weren’t in any better state than he was - that Chang girl yelped a high yelp, causing her boyfriend to embrace her protectively while the Veela girl posed, but he clearly saw goose bumps forming on her skin, and the only two who were remotely comfortable in their skins were the Durmstrang competitors.

He looked at the churning waves beneath their feet, ignoring the stares from the crowd while he concentrated on what the will have to do.

The crowd was taken aback at the appearance of the Fourth Champions. While Durmstrang pair elected to wear a combo of short-sleeved red and black shirts with black swimming trunks, both Kiritsugu and Kirei braved the cold with their chests on display, clad only in deep blue and black piped swimming trunks. Kiritsugu was slim, almost on the verge of being lanky, but with a substantial amount of muscle under the pale skin, while Kirei’s body was corded with strong muscles that were bigger and more defined than Krum’s. The necklace with cross only enhanced the contrast, beckoning the eyes to the well-sculpted chest. 

There was a no-brainer that someone will have a significantly bigger following come the end of the Second Task, if the comments and squeals from the witches in audience were anything to go by.

“Three…Two… One  – Go!” Bagman bellowed, and without hesitation, the six Champions jumped into the freezing cold water below. 

It had been a shock when he hit the water, but one Kiritsugu absentmindedly compartmentalized into the back of the mind with an ease of long practice as he allowed himself to be pulled under the water surface, holding his breath in as he waited for Kirei. 

On his right, the Durmstrang duo popped to surface for a moment, while both of the Beauxbatons girls left below him charmed themselves a bubble on their lower halves of their faces, just as the Hogwarts Champions somehow changed into grisly looking something, seeing by their feet morphing into some webbed monstrosity. And then, Kirei touched his shoulder, making him turn around.

 

* * *

Kirei looked at Kiritsugu, as the black hair swayed around his face. For once, the spikes weren’t so rigid looking, but instead moving gently about in the water, framing the pale face that looked up at him becomingly. But right now, they had their mission and Kirei got to work. 

He placed both of his hands on the each side of Kirei’s throat, a little bit above the frail looking collarbone, his thumbs almost touching, while Kiritsugu did the same to him and he concentrated. 

The seals on his right forearm lighted up a mute red color while he begun to mentally chant the incantation to warp it. 

Usually, the Command Seals in Grail War were used to Command the Servants if there was any emergency or in the case a Servant went berserk, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t be used for other purposes. Kirei himself had used Command Seals as a secondary resource of prana when he learned of Kiritsugu’s little severing and binding ability. He still remembered how, when they dueled, he managed to deflect Origin Bullet with his right arm. It was those Seals that saved him from being fried by his own circuits - true, the pain was monstrous, and he had lost half of the available seals then and his arm felt hollow ever since, but he could truthfully say that he was the only one to live through Magus Killer’s most lethal attack. If he hadn’t had them… well, then there wouldn’t be any Kotomine Kirei to speak of right now. 

This parody of Grail War they had found themselves in rendered the Command Seals useless to their original purpose, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t be used in other ways. And what was Kirei doing right now, was a kind of a spiritual surgery - instead of them living on air, the seals would supplant the energy needed for their bodies to live. It was a risky process, and with Kiritsugu’s Origin of Shattering even more so for his assassin companion, but Kirei was confident in his abilities. 

The forearm’s skin warmed up even more, to the point of being painful, but Kirei ignored it, his attention razor sharp as he concentrated on changing the purpose of the seals while he transferred them on the needed places.

A minute passed. The skin around his neck above his collarbones became warm quickly and heated even more, the heat a comforting counterpoint to the freezing water around them. A searing hot flash of pain - he felt Kiritsugu tense under his hands - and then, the seals settled in. Instantly, he felt his body’s relief, as if he had taken a deep breath, while in reality, he didn’t either inhale or exhale. His heart beat steadily as he released his hands from Kiritsugu’s skin, making the assassin blink at him.

Kirei arched his eyebrows and was answered by Kiritsugu’s nod. 

The water was murky, a sickly greenish yellow shade with white mixed in, as if there was some kind of a fog curling around. Kiritsugu began to swam the way Delacour had gone to, and Kirei followed him mutely. The only thing they were really stuck on was the place the hostages were held, and thus had to resolve to follow the Champions. Both Durmstrang champions had already went ahead, along with Hogwarts pair, and they were left to follow the Beauxbatons’ pair as fast as possible. Even if de la Fére girl was fairly good swimmer, and as such further ahead, they were in luck with Delacour who was awkwardly plowing onward, her face pale and panicky looking as she was unsuccessfully trying to swim up to her partner. 

Kiritsugu didn’t have any problems with swimming - in fact, he was moving with a kind of a swift grace, as if he had been born in the sea and not on the ground. Kirei’s mind flashed briefly to the memory of a sun-kissed boy happily exploring the wonders of the sea underwater, dark eyes wide and excited in the muted warmth of infinite blue. He allowed it to cross his mind for a moment longer before he concentrated on swimming himself - while he couldn’t really compare to Kiritsugu he was nonetheless more than decent and they soon overtook the fumbling Veela in their temporary pursuit of de la Fére girl. The water was swaying against his body like some kind of a lightly syrupy molasses, offering a modicum of resistance he cut through again and again.

They were now swimming a little bit above the swaying algae; their long leaves fluttering lazily with the water currents. The underwater world was being illuminated surprisingly well considering that outside weather was heavily cloudy. And up until now, they didn’t have any problems.

That didn’t stop him from noticing small, sickly green creatures following that de la Fére girl - and when she swam too close above the tops of the algae, the spindly fingers of the creatures grabbed and clutched at her, making her thrash violently around while swishing the wand at them, making some of them recoil when something hit them before they returned back to trying to get her. 

Grindylows. Kirei’s eyes narrowed as he felt one of the creatures grab at his left ankle – he pulled his legs toward his stomach, and his fingers enclosed around the creature’s arm, breaking it easily and causing it to utter an incoherent scream before backing away. Another one was unwise enough to try to get him from the flank, making Kirei grab its head and squeeze it tightly. 

The pressure was apparently too great - and the creature’s skull caved inward, leaving Kirei with a pulpy mess on his fingers as its’ tiny body slackened in the throes of death. He looked at Kiritsugu when he absentmindedly shook his hand to clean it of the filth on his fingers – meanwhile the assassin deftly dealt with his own lot too, his choice method was snapping the little creatures’ necks with one of his assassin techniques, making Kirei’s gut feel warm for some reason. 

He had known that despite Kiritsugu’s use of guns he still had the knowledge of assassination, and he had witnessed it by himself some times in the dream memories, but seeing the Magus Killer at work was…  sublime. True, their prey was more than a little pathetic, but that didn’t matter. It made Kirei wonder what would Kiritsugu do if he were faced with a  truly  worthy opponent.

He frowned as he heard a burbling scream behind - and his eyes narrowed as he saw Kiritsugu turn around to the way the sound came from. 

It was that Delacour girl. 

Despite of the judicious use of something invisible and frantic dodging, the girl was more or less beset by the little demons, their fingers grabbing at her, leaving thin red wounds on her flawless skin. Oh, the look of her panic on her face was interesting, and Kirei would so love to watch her struggle more… only he felt it was lackluster somehow. 

Pathetic. 

Tilting his head, he frowned as he noticed Kiritsugu swimming toward her, the assassin throwing himself into the fray himself, reaching into the writhing mass of underwater demons, snapping bones and twisting bodies, making the little blighters baring their sharp little teeth at him, as their mouths opened widely in a parody of threat. 

Kirei shook his head. 

‘That stupid hero complex of his.’ He thought to himself, exasperated. But he couldn’t say he didn’t appreciate additional show either. 

He absentmindedly broke the neck of another little beast that was unwise enough to try to attack him and then began to swim toward them. 

The Grindylows finally left him alone and much to his confusion, they also left both Delacour and Kiritsugu in a hurry. 

He saw Kiritsugu’s eyes widen and then, he felt it. 

He barely had time when sharp teeth clamped onto his shoulder, making the crippling pain race up his nerves. Belatedly, he saw the Veela girl look at him with huge eyes while Kiritsugu was already swimming toward him – 

He forced to move his hand, despite being bitten, up and his fingers clawed into - 

\- a throat of a horse?

* * *

Kiritsugu’s eyes widened as he saw the shadow behind Kirei. It was big and vaguely horse-like, it’s yellow eye having a horizontal pupil as it chomped on Kiritsugu’s right shoulder, the blood bursting out of the wound in a small red cloud.

It’s mane was swaying in the water as Kirei’s hand clamped onto his throat, the powerful body jerking back and those bloodied yellowish teeth were bared in anticipation of the next bite, likened more to a shark’s teeth than ones of a herbivore. He saw Kirei wincing as the pseudo- horse’s knees slammed into his lower back, making the priest stumble forward - he just hoped the water at least eased the tremendous force somewhat as he lunged forward to the equine-like creature. 

Fuck. 

A Kelpie. And it was just their goddamned luck that they had to meet one that apparently didn’t have any inclination of leaving without a Kirei-shaped snack. 

In any other scenario, Kiritsugu would have left the priest right then and there to be a Kelpie chow. 

But not now. 

He came closer to the pair and barely managed to dodge the creature’s hind legs, grabbing onto them and curling below its’ body, just to kick it in the crotch, making it jerk back a little. The kick wasn’t as strong as Kiritsugu would have liked it to make, but beggars couldn’t be choosers – 

The horse-like creature turned around, forcing Kiritsugu to release its hind legs in effort to avoid the hoofs from its forelegs, and the beast released Kirei’s shoulder, making a chance for the priest to mount it’s back, all the while clutching the pale mane.

For a moment, the Kelpie forgot the opponent on its back, snapping toward Kiritsugu, only for the Magus Killer to kick it into the muzzle, thus further enraging it and it lunged forward – 

Kiritsugu got a close up look at the water beast’s mouth before it was jerked back by Kirei who was grimly holding onto its’ mane, his tights clutching its ribs for all he was worth. The Kelpie tried to snap back, only for Kiritsugu to brutally dig his heels into the sides of its belly, making it flinch back before it made a somersault forward in an attempt to dislodge the unwanted rider. 

But Kirei held on, face pressed tightly against its mane as it then rolled on its side in an attempt to dislodge him.

Pale yellow eyes zeroed on Kiritsugu and the Kelpie surged forward - it was by pure dumb luck that Kiritsugu managed to dodge it - an instinctive use of  Accel  to get the hell away from the range of its teeth.

Kiritsugu held back an involuntary cry when his body felt as if he had been dipped into magma - apparently it wasn’t a good idea to use  Accel  in combination with whatever voodoo Kirei had managed to cobble together to enable them to survive under water. 

Gritting his teeth together, he nonetheless remembered something – 

“… Kelpies can be rendered docile and harmless by using a  Placement Charm to put a bridle over the creature's head…”

His eyes widening, he looked around for anything that could be used as a bridle – 

Oh.

Gritting his teeth, he once again used  Accel, choking back the pain that flared through his body as he swam forward and snatched the priest’s necklace off his neck. Quickly backing off he then managed to fashion a simple bridle out of the cord. There wasn’t enough material for the reins, but to hell with it, at this point, Kiritsugu was desperate enough to try just about anything. 

Kirei glared at him, only to be interrupted by Kelpie which now surged down to the bottom of the lake intent to roll into it and thus dislodge the human-shaped barnacle from its back. 

The sand rose up, making the clouds and obscuring both of the figures within. For a moment, Kiritsugu felt his heart clench with anxiety - it wouldn’t do for Kirei to be hit by one of the hooves in that mess – 

Kirei had jumped off of its back, but still holding onto the part of its mane, carefully out of reach of its hooves and teeth, causing the Kelpie to make helpless snaps against his hold as it arched off the lake’s ground. 

Kiritsugu didn’t waste time. He quickly swam to the priest and fit the makeshift bridle onto the beast’s head his left hand being nicked by the beast’s sharp teeth in process. 

However, as soon as the bridle was fitted, the beast became docile, only its eyes still showing that was more than a bit disgruntled to be leashed so. Kirei cautiously released it, and it floated upward in front of them as if it was nothing else than a mere ground-walking, grass-grazing beast of burden. 

Now they had enough time to look at it. It was shaped like a horse, with a curiously gray and black coloring - gray color shifted into black and black into gray, making for a truly disconcerting presentation. The beast had a dull whitish gray mane and its’ yellow eyes had horizontal pupil. Its fetlock joints were covered in the long black locks, the hairs almost obscuring the hooves, mane and tail curling in the water currents docilely.

Only now, they remembered the Delacour girl.

And wasn’t that just dandy that the chit had managed to leave them behind.

Now what?

* * *

The situation was indeed grim. They were now stuck like sitting ducks, what with them not having any clue of where the hostages were - they could be anywhere at this point, and they didn’t know how much time had passed from their tussle with the damnable beast that was just now innocently standing in front of them, mild as you please. 

Kiritsugu held onto his temper. It wouldn’t do to explode right now. His dark musings were interrupted by the tap on his shoulder by Kirei and then he was being pointed to the troublesome Kelpie. 

Kiritsugu blinked. 

Yes, they had Kelpie. So what?

Kirei’s eyebrows furrowed as he pointed at him and Kiritsugu and then Kelpie and then the way their presumed hostages were held. 

He then moved to the Kelpie, only for the beast to shy away from him and even baring teeth at him, deftly maneuvering so it was behind Kiritsugu’s back, its head over Kiritsugu’s right shoulder as if it was a naughty child hiding from its frustrated parent. 

Kiritsugu’s back tensed. 

 

* * *

‘Well, the beast definitely chose just who would be its temporary master,’ concluded Kirei. And while it was very amusing sight to see Kiritsugu being half-taken aback and half-terrified by Kelpie that was semi-hiding behind his back, they had to move on. So Kirei swam forward, disregarding Kelpie’s toothy sneer as he grabbed Kiritsugu by the hem of his swimming trunks and unceremoniously hoisted him onto the beast’s back.

Kiritsugu’s face could be used as a picture to the dictionary’s definition of surprise and mortification, making Kirei’s lips quirk up in a smirk. He then settled behind the assassin and had just enough of time to clutch his arms around Kiritsugu’s slender waist before the Kelpie reared up, turned around and then they were off.

He decided to disregard a rather painful pinch on the inner side of his right tight. It wasn’t his fault that Kiritsugu was just that darned slow in the head when it came to using whatever was at hand. Oh, and Kiritsugu definitely owed him for using his necklace to make that bridle of his. 

* * *

The Kelpie Express was definitely a way to go, Kiritsugu had to admit. Though he did wonder how had Kirei come to that particular idea, but okay, whatever worked, worked. They had managed to pass both the Beauxbatons’ and Hogwarts’ pair on their way.

In almost no time the duo found themselves in the square of the village of Merpeople. It was kind of disappointing, to see the small, crude buildings made of stone and some or other had a Grindylow tied to a stake in front of the entrance. And then, there were the Merpeople themselves. Humanoid-shaped, with a fish head and fish tail instead of legs, grayish skin and yellow eyes and similarly colored broken teeth, with thick ropes made from small pebbles around their necks. Dark eyes narrowed as he noticed some of the Merpeople clutching the spears in their webbed hands while they were staring at them warily. 

Well, so much about Dumbledore’s reassurances about their adversaries being completely harmless. And with both of them being out of their usual element, any confrontation would be heavily in favor of the fish-people. Cursorily, he saw beady fishy eyes looking at them from the darkness of those primitive huts before his attention was focused back to the hostages. 

Six people was tethered to the slab of stone with crudely made ropes, their faces slack with relaxation as they were still in deep unconsciousness. There was Hermione with her bushy mane and an unknown teen clad in Durmstrang school uniform with long black ponytail floating being his head. Next was Smith/Edgecombe pair, and then there was Luna with her serene smile and flaxen hair floating behind her along with that red-haired stalker of Kirei’s tethered on her left side. The last pair was obviously awaiting the Beauxbatons’ Champions, a handsome brunette man with a cross-shaped scar on his right cheek and – 

Kiritsugu’s eyes widened. 

‘Ilya?’

Involuntarily he moved the Kelpie forward, seeing the small girl’s pale head gently bobbing with the current, the long hair floating gently and obscuring her face. She couldn’t be more than six years old! What was a child doing here?

His throat seized as he hurriedly pushed himself off the Kelpie’s back, dislodging Kirei’s hold on his waist and floated to the small girl  \- ‘Ilya! ’ - his mind chanted to him, only to be stopped by the crossed spears .

He blinked. 

‘Ilya? Ilyasviel, sweetheart -’ His heart seized with pain as his throat had been lodged by an unnamed knot. 

And then, a stray strand revealed the girl’s face and Kiritsugu’s heart was both relieved and terribly disappointed. 

This little girl wasn’t Ilya. Yes, she was terribly similar to her, but now, when he overcame the first shock, he saw that her hair wasn’t pale green shade as white would have been under the water, but some kind of a murky greenish yellow, like that of the Veela that left him behind when they were dealing with Gryndilows. Her face was childish, without that hint of an inhuman beauty his darling little daughter had, her lips less full and small nose a tad bit too pointed to be truly similar to his little darling. 

His face hardened as he forcefully slammed his mission to the forefront of his mind, muting any and all outrage he felt at the irrationality of those imbecilic wand-wavers.

Even he, as a Magus Killer, wouldn’t be so cruel as to use a child to – 

No, he would.  ‘One life for ten, ten for hundred.’  But he at least had a valid reason when he had done so, while this - this abomination of a tournament was just…  Inhuman.

But what else could he have expected from an off-shot, bastardized version of a tournament of the Grail War?

He had been witness to enough broken families, either by his hand or otherwise, to know the consequences if the Veela wouldn’t save the little girl in time. 

* * *

Kirei looked at the assassin before he observed the hostages. It seemed that Kiritsugu was shaken by something -  ‘Ah. Of course. A small girl. ‘ He remembered that Kiritsugu had a family - that Lesser Grail holder and a little girl. 

Something in his cold, dead heart ignited and burned with sick, hot flames. 

No. 

He didn’t have them anymore. Kirei himself had taken care of the Lesser Grail by his own hands, and that little girl was of no consequence. True, she was Kiritsugu’s daughter, but Kirei himself had a daughter - Caren - and she was going to be just fine without her father. Ilya could do the same. 

Kiritsugu was  his. His to break. Not some little brat’s which wasn’t even a good likeness to the assassin’s daughter. His fist tightened in Kelpie’s mane, making the horse-like beast move under him restlessly and the Merpeople bristling at its’ movements, golden eyes glinting and their manes puffing out threateningly.

He remembered the heartbeat under his fingertips when the Magus Killer had slept, half of his body on Kiritsugu’s chest, the last night. He still felt the heat of Kiritsugu’s naked skin against his own before the assassin dismounted the Kelpie. 

Emiya Kiritsugu was  his.

He watched the assassin swimming toward their pair of hostages and then pulling out his bowie knife from behind the back of the belt of his swimming trunks. 

Kirei blinked. He didn’t realize that Kiritsugu had anything other than his behind in those trunks. Did the man have any other strange pockets he should have known about? Or was that some kind of an assassin technique only those in the know were secretly toting around?

The Mer warriors bared their teeth in challenge at seeing the naked shine of the steel, but they remained calm as they reluctantly uncrossed the spears as to allow Kiritsugu to approach the hostages. 

It had been laughably easily to cut the ropes from both Luna and that redheaded girl. Kiritsugu then turned around and grabbed them by the backs of their collars, while he crouched on the slab of stone the hostages had been tied to and then sprung forward with all the power he got, heading straight back to where Kirei was waiting on him, dark eyes narrowed into a determined mask.

Only Kirei saw the almost invisible spasm of the man’s body and his eyebrows furrowed. 

This didn’t bode well. 

They didn’t know how long had they been underwater, but theoretically, the seals should have held up to 45 minutes, more than enough time to complete the task. However, Kiritsugu seemed to have problems right now and Kirei had inkling on what they could have been. 

The Seals were corroding, sharp red lines fading slowly from the pale skin, as if being eroded by an invisible eraser.

And with Kiritsugu using  Accel when they were forced to subdue the Kelpie, the seals were fading even faster. 

Dammit, he  knew he shouldn’t have listened to the idiot and just make – 

He saw Kiritsugu swim toward him sluggishly, mouth pressed together into a thin line as he forced his body to move forward.

The Kelpie’s head jerked back when a vaguely human form with a shark head swam past them, followed by a smaller one just seconds later. The Kelpie shied away, baring its’ sharp teeth at the unnatural beings and causing Kirei’s tights squeeze his sides in warning.

But then, Kirei focused back on Kiritsugu, reaching his arm to accept his own hostage while Kiritsugu kept Luna for a moment before he handled the flaxen- haired girl to him too, making him blink in surprise. 

What was he do – 

Kiritsugu sent him a significant glance –  ‘Be prepared’  \- and then placed his left palm on Kelpie’s forehead as the horse nudged it forward. He pointed his right arm’s pointer finger to the water demon and then to the surface. 

‘You. Up.’

Tensing, Kirei tried to protest, but one stern glare made him subside - not so much subside as it literally took the decision out of his hands, if he wanted to stay on the beast’s back when it surged upward. His hands clutched at the hostages’ bodies instinctively and he just knew that he would clock Kiritsugu for his impudence later. 

He looked back at the Kiritsugu for a moment, only to see the assassin hand his knife to one of the half-sharks while other was trying to carefully munch off the rope of his bushy-haired hostage.

When they broke the surface, Kirei was bombarded with the cacophony of sounds, most notable of them that Bagman fellow’s chattering. 

“And there we have it, folks, the first one to successfully finish the challenge is the black Hippogriff of this race, Potter-Emiya pair - wait, no, it’s only Potter with both of their hostages and - is that a Kelpie he is riding on!?” Bagman’s voice boomed over the water surface disbelievingly. 

Meanwhile, Kirei disregarded the shock of icy cold air on his skin when he headed the Kelpie toward the shore where people were already awaiting them. The girls were spluttering - apparently the charm they had been under only held until they were brought to the surface – and shivering in his arms. Kirei felt Luna shaking terribly while that redhead was trying to snuggle into him as if she were attempting to burrow into his body. 

“Luna?” he asked shortly as he looked at far-gazing Ravenclaw. The flaxen-haired girl blinked, her big gray eyes oddly luminous in the drab light of the day. “I am okay. But you should hurry, Kerry’s losing against Snazzwumpers.”

Clenching his teeth, Kirei nodded sharply.

“C-c- Cold!” The redhead yelped as she tried to snuggle further against him. Kirei didn’t care for her adoring gaze looking at his face.

Right now, it was more important for him to back to Emiya as soon as possible. 

It seemed that an eternity had passed until they swam to the shore, with Kelpie trudging out of the water like a blot of ink forming into an equine form as soon as it had touched the air, small water crystals forming at the edge of its mane and tail, making it seem oddly stiff and awkward on the ground, like it didn’t belong here. 

“Mr. Potter!” He recognized Madam Pomfrey’s voice and he turned his head. The Mediwitch hurried toward him, her face pale. “What in the world – Get off of that creature this instant and - goodness, what were they  thinking, making girls play hostages under freezing water in January  of all times – “ She swished her wand and Kirei felt his body dry and warm up instantly , as if he had been wrapped into thickest, warmest - 

He choked as if he had been garroted with a live wire. 

“Get that charm off of me,  now! ” He barked, and startled, the Mediwitch complied without question. Wordlessly, he released Luna into one of the auxiliary Healers’ arms, while the redhead still clutched at him fiercely.

“Let go off of me, girl.” He addressed her.

Brown eyes looked at him with dreamy sheen. 

“You  saved me,” She breathed out. “Thank you.” She attempted to nuzzle into him, but he pried her off of him and unceremoniously deposited her on the ground. “Just a hostage.” He replied back, making her face crumple with disappointment. 

Then, he turned the Kelpie back – 

“Mr. Potter, what on Earth are you doing?!” McGonagall’s appalled voice called after him. 

Kirei didn’t deign to grace her with his answer, the time was already short as it was. Instead, he turned the Kelpie back to the lake and kicked its sides. Hard. 

With a warbling screech that made people cover their ears with pain it caused, the Kelpie turned around, rearing on its hind legs and then plunged back into the cold dark waters of the lake.

“…What, in Merlin’s underpants has just happened?” Bagman’s bewildered voice asked the question of the hour. 

“It seems that Potter had elected to return back for his partner.” Crouch said, his bushy eyebrows crunching with discontent. 

“Isn’t there a rule that when the Champions come to the water surface, they are forbidden to return?” Someone asked, making the grumpy man blink and then incline his head. 

“I don’t think he particularly cared about that,” Dumbledore pointed out cheerfully, the wizard stroking his beard as if he wasn’t aware of the strange looks he received for his comment. “After all,  deep down, he is a tiny bit of a Gryffindor.”

* * *

Meanwhile, Kirei had different trouble than just re-experiencing the freezing embrace of the lake’s waters. 

Madam Pomfrey’s little spell had managed to mess with the matrix of Commanding Spells that enabled his body to survive under water, and already, he felt his body starting to get uncomfortable - it was like he was holding his breath and feeling a small urge to breath, but not anything truly pressing yet. Still… 

Kiritsugu was in worse position than him right now. 

Belatedly, he noted Durmstrang Champions swimming toward the surface, each with his own hostage, and de la Fére girl schlepping behind them, her slim form having trouble with carrying up the much heavier form of her fiancé. 

That was three Champions and three hostages. So the ones remaining were Hogwarts’ bunch, Veela with that small kid and Kiritsugu. 

He didn’t know why, but suddenly, Kirei got a sinking feeling in his gut. 

Something wasn’t right. 

He urged the beast to swim faster, and it obeyed.

* * *

Kiritsugu was feeling the consequences of his foolish decision quite acutely. The Seals were burning off of his skin one by one, with the most painful fire known to man - a mix of extremely hot and unimaginably cold, leaving behind a wasteland of agony. 

He wanted to breathe. But he had to keep his mouth shut. It would do no well if the water came into his mouth and then in his lungs. Kirei’s little trick didn’t enable him having gills, after all. 

He had been tempted to use  Stagnate, if only to delay his body’s furious use of the Seals’ mana, but he resisted. He had learned his lesson with  Accel, after all. 

While he was at that… what was he still doing here? Both Diggory and Chang didn’t have any problems with saving their hostages, as they were using the Bubble head charms they had ample time to do their thing, while we was floating among the increasingly agitated fish-people on a borrowed time.

He looked at the cherubic face of the small girl that was still tethered to the stone.

‘Because of her.’

True, she wasn’t Ilya, but Kiritsugu couldn’t in a good conscience, leave the small one here defenseless until the Veela came for her. 

Because he always tried to leave children alive, even if some of his missions demanded for a complete extermination.

- In his mind, there flashed a picture of a plane on a cloudless sky, filled with people, laughing, smiling, the excited children running among aisles, not knowing that five minutes later the plane will be broken in half, roaring to the ground to its’ fiery death. 

One of his greatest, deepest and darkest regrets. 

The one mission that broke, and remade him into a Magus Killer he was today. 

He couldn’t face Ilya or Iri if he didn’t at least try to save this little child. 

Maybe he truly became soft.

He fought an urge to snort. 

Maybe. 

And then, there was a commotion at the Merfolk’s village gate.

He saw the Veela’s long hair swishing back after her, but her silver suit was in tatters, but still covering the important areas decently enough. Her wide eyes were panicked as she tried to swim on, only to be detained by a small group of Grindylows snapping at her - obviously the girl was ill-equipped to deal with the little beasts, and the fish-people didn’t do a whit to help her. On the contrary, they seemed to encourage the blighters to delay the girl, and some of the spindly fingers reached after the pale mane floating behind the girl, twisting in the strands and then jerking her head back, exposing the slender, vulnerable throat, while others occupied her other limbs, digging and clawing their fingers into the soft skin, making tiny scratches that leaked small amounts of blood.

Blank eyes widened. 

This wasn’t just a simple task anymore. In fact - he saw one of the beasties creep it’s long fingers toward the girls’ eyes, making her screw the eyelids shut – it bordered on a calculated  massacre.

Flailing weakly, her right hand stretched desperately toward the place the little girl was tethered to, mouth opened in a mute scream of despair – 

To hell with rules, he never heeded them anyway. 

Ignoring the body’s complaints at the pain, he surged forward. 

He had reached the tangle after what it seemed to be years, but then, he immediately threw himself into eliminating the pests, breaking both the limbs and necks without prejudice, much to the outrage of the fish-people. Slowly, but surely, he managed to detract the beasties from the girl, drawing them from her

His hands were covered with slime and blood while the girl escaped the throng of the beasts and toward the hostage. 

She was allowed to proceed through the throng of fish-people - Kiritsugu couldn’t bring himself to call them Merfolk, because firstly, they weren’t residing in a sea and secondly, their fishy appearance was more credible to his moniker than the their official name. 

If it’s similar to fish, then it’s a fish. End of the debate. 

Desperately, the girl then began to tug the ropes apart with her hands, becoming more and more frantic when her tries ended in a failure again and again. 

Kiritsugu’s eyebrows scrunched. 

He looked at the fish-person which was decorated more ornately than any other, with a single garland made from colorful small beads woven among its mane. 

A Merchieftainess. 

He sketched a bow at her, making her tilt her head slightly. Then, he pointed at Delacour girl and frowned.

The Merchieftainess bared her teeth into a parody of a half-smile and half snarl. She pointed back at the floating bodies of dead Grindylows, snarling a little more while throwing the desperate Veela a disdainful glare. 

‘She couldn’t even defeat the little dogs of the lake. Why should she be worthy of taking back which is the most precious to her?’

Kiritsugu nodded reluctantly. The Merchieftainess had a point. 

Then, he pointed at the Delacour, made a shape of heart on his chest and then pointed to the little girl, making a smaller heart on his chest afterwards as he tilted his head questioningly at her.

‘They care for each other. Why not let them go?’

That got him a harrumph, and a whole lot of bubbles floated out of the she-fish’s lippy mouth. 

A webbed hand pointed out toward the surface. Then, it waved away and Kiritsugu’s blood ran cold. 

‘Time will pass soon. No turning back.’

He began to swim forward, only to be confronted by the sharp ends of the crudely made spears.

Clenching his teeth, Kiritsugu prepared himself to unleash another  Accel.

No matter that it would hurt like fuck. 

Two lives depended on him… and he wasn’t about to let them go.

A click of the trigger sounded inside of his skull. 

* * *

Fleur Delacour was in a very unenviable situation. While she had theoretically known what she had been getting herself into, what with entering the Triwizard Tournament - danger, fame and excitement, nobody had told her that it would involve copious amounts of freezing cold water, those awful little creatures and the most awful thing, that she would have to save her beloved little sister else she would lose her to the icy embrace of death. 

‘Ma soeur! Oh, ma petite soeur, je suis desolée– ‘ She choked back a sob when she tried, once again, to unsuccessfully untangle the rope.

There was no Madame Maxime to help her like she had with the dragons, there, under the ice cold water surface, she was left to the mercy and unmercy to the cold and creatures.

She had been in luck that Emiya had helped her to get rid of the Grindylows - oh, those pests were simply  awful, and it didn’t help that they were a lot more aggressive than the ones she encountered in their lake at home. She had been only one, and at first, she had thought it would be easy task to deal with the little monsters, but it hadn’t been so. She had lost a valuable time, even with both Emiya and Potter helping her - she still felt a little bit guilty that she left them alone at mercy of that horse-like thing, but her beloved little sister needed her more – 

She was a Veela, meaning her magic was even more attractive to the water creatures, and those  fils de pute  had taken her little sister and repositioned her smack-dab in the middle of the  Merpeople  of all creatures! Both Merpeople and Veelas had been a longtime foes because of the opposite natures of their magic and leaving a defenseless child among the enemy’s throng was a tantamount to baiting them to attack!

What would her Maman say, what would her Papa…?

Only her little sister was still tethered to the stone, and time was tickling by unmercifully. 

The fire within her was weakening by the minute - Veelas weren’t made to survive in such an extreme surroundings, and to be under the icy freezing water by her own will…  Mon Dieu,  she had to be insane!

But her little sister…

There was a commotion behind her back and she jerked around to look. 

She had lost her wand, so she was useless - thankfully the Bubblehead Charm would held until it would be dispelled - but  Gabrielle-!

Her frantic thoughts were interrupted by the scene in front of her. 

Emiya was fighting. 

He was surprisingly agile, dodging and dealing the hits with the spear he had stolen with a speed that was simply unreal. All of the Champions had been hampered by the water, their movements slow and sluggish - even Viktor and his partner, who had gone for a shark transformation, were only marginally faster than they should have been if they had been in human form. 

But this… Emiya, Kerry Emiya, fought as if the rules of gravity were simply non-existent for him. 

A jab back, and controlled whirl of the pole - she noticed that he had broken the spear’s tip sometime in the fight and the end of it crashed into the side of the merman’s head, making him drop, only for him to be felled by a powerful tail aimed at his legs – 

The Merfolk’s manes were being bristled in anger, their cries echoing under water as they lunged forward in an attempt to subdue the interloper. 

Only for them to fell one after another. 

Then, a black and pale white shade slammed into the throng, revealing one furious Kelpie with a rider on its back.

* * *

Kirei’s feelings weren’t wrong. 

He had seen Kiritsugu fighting against what seemed to be an entire contingent of Merpeople’s warriors, and even if he was winning - 

He saw that there was only a pale outline of the Seals on the man’s collarbone - using  Accel  was ridiculously taxing both on the reserves and the body and of course, the Magus Killer had done just what would surely lead to his death!

When he touched Kiritsugu - he left the Kelpie to deal with the rest of the warriors, not that there were many of them to deal with – the man was almost burning to the touch. Not good, because that meant the man’s circuits were going full throttle, and the body was nearing to its threshold, unable to channel the amount of power that coursed through it at the rate it was currently going. Brows furrowing, Kirei’s face set into a grim expression. 

He will have to get him to the surface immediately. 

Feverish dark eyes looked at him, and then, the man nodded toward the slab weakly.

The gesture was clear. 

Rescue them.

* * *

Kirei disregarded the furious Merchieftainess as he swiftly swam to the stone. Not caring about the French champion either, he instead grabbed the ropes and yanked, tearing them apart at first try.

Leaving the little girl to the gaping Veela, he returned back to Kiritsugu who was currently lying on the soft sand and being gently nuzzled by a Kelpie. The whole scene would have been cute if weren’t for Kiritsugu’s unhealthy pallid skin and bruises under his eyes, along with the very last vestiges of the Seals fading away. He blinked back a surprise when he found out the man was still conscious - if only barely.

Quickly, he hefted Kiritsugu on Kelpie’s back, making the man’s hand clench the beast’s mane, and then hurriedly beckoned the Veela to approach them. 

Hesitantly, the girl had done so, clutching the precious bundle to herself protectively all the while, her large eyes focusing alternatively on the hunched form sitting on Kelpie’s back and the authoritative one of the priest.

He motioned her to get behind Kiritsugu, making her eyes widen with disbelief. She opened her mouth to protest, but a sharp glare silenced her. She passed him her little hostage and gingerly mounted the beast. 

Kirei then lifted the little girl up to Kiritsugu to get a hold on, much to her shock. A moment later, he used the rope that had been used to hold the hostages and tying it around her waist.

Elegant eyebrows furrowing, she looked at him in indignant confusion. 

‘What was that for!?’ First her little sister, and now this harebrained – 

A strong hand clenched her own around Emiya’s waist - to her surprise, it had been Emiya, as he looked at her, dark eyes glinting in warning. 

‘Hold on.’

Gulping, she had done just that, and praying to Merlin, Maeve and Morgana that those strange boys knew what they were doing. 

Then, the Kelpie reared up, making Fleur clutch to it with her thighs instinctively as she desperately clung to Emiya’s waist – 

-and then, they were off. She felt a yank of the rope around her waist and her eyes widened with understanding. The milky green of the water gave its way to warmer hues the closer they were to the surface and blessed air. 

She looked back to the little settling, outlined in shades of gray, dull, muted green and opaque white. She wouldn’t miss this place, that was for certain. At her right side, a little outside the reach of Kelpie’s hooves floated Kotomine, his face dark and serious, seemingly exuding no effort to hold the rope even if the speed they were going was nothing to scoff at. 

Instead of unease, she felt only a profound relief. Screw the school pride - she was just happy she survived and that her beloved little sister was safe. And she was grateful - so very grateful, that she had had two guardian angels to keep her safe through this entirely insane ordeal. 

* * *

Inhuman golden eyes looked at the awkward group rising to the surface. 

The Merchieftainess huffed as she flicked her tail. 

Interesting. 

Swift Death and Ragged Claws … if they weren’t humans, they would have been an excellent addition to her tribe. 

Swift Death had surprised her with his speed - indeed, nothing had been faster than this human boy in those waters. He was also merciful, to spare her warriors from certain death by breaking off the sharp point off of the spear before he used it to subdue them. 

Ragged Claws appeared after he had taken their hostages to safety - a commendable trait, to return back for his comrade. And while the Champions had used both the spells and knife to cut the ropes, Ragged Claws only extended his hand, fingers clawed slightly as he grabbed for the ropes, and ropes - the strongest,  enchanted ropes - fell apart from under his touch, edges serrated as if ragged claws had been used to cleave them apart. 

She chuckled, bubbles appearing out from her mouth as she picked up some of the ropes. They would make very valuable playing tools for her little nephews, indeed. 

Idly, she waved to her underlings to begin tidying up the mess the Abovesurfacers had left behind. 

Interesting, indeed. 

* * *

Above the surface of the lake, the spectators were in a tizzy. This was completely unprecedented - two unknown competitors practically usurping the best and brightest from the oldest and best magical schools Europe could offer.

And to add the insult to injury, both of the mentioned competitors were apparently Squibs, and as such, they shouldn’t have any home advantage on the turf that belonged only to the wizards and witches!

How? How did they tame that Kelpie? Not that it was a hard task, however it could prove almost impossible without an enchanted rope and surely, they didn’t have anything like that on their persons!

After Potter had vanished under the surface to retrieve his partner, five minutes later the Durmstrang boys had arrived with their hostages, making the Durmstrang contingent roar with approval. Ten minutes after, Hogwarts’ own had appeared, their pair of hostages also unhurt, just shaken by the cold. Then, it had been that de la Fére girl, just a scant few moments behind.

If the crowd had expected the last group would be returning soon after, they were in for a disappointment. The murmurs and speculations were running louder by the moments as they wondered what was holding the last three back from reaching the surface. Surely the spells they had chosen were reliable enough? 

Ten more minutes passed.

Madame Maxime was especially antsy. Fleur Delacour was her personal charge, and she had to persuade the girl’s parents for quite a time to allow her to compete in this prestigious competition. Yes, it was dangerous, she had agreed. But, she had pointed, that Fleur Delacour had the best overall marks in the school, and with her heritage, she was a shoo-in winner for the Triwizard. Violette de la Fére had been chosen as the second one to Fleur, even if the girls hadn’t gotten along very well. And that, Madame Maxime found out, was not a good combination. 

Instead of waiting for her, Violettete had headed to the surface, leaving Fleur to deal with the her hostage situation all by her lonesome.  ‘Quel dommage!’ the half-Giantess thought, her finely shaped eyebrows scrunched into concerned frown. It didn’t help that Fleur’s hostage was her little sister, who was also a half-Veela like her. 

This should have been Fleur’s turf. They had researched the creatures of the lake - correction, Madame Maxime persuaded ‘Agrid into an enthusiastic description of the lake’s underwater beasties - Grindylows, a Kelpie here and there and Merfolk, with an occasional fish and a Giant Squib. It should have been a piece of cake,  non? 

Sadly, Beauxbatons was currently on the last place, no matter Violette’s exemplary performance. 

Instead of that those brutes from Durmstrang practically dominated the field, and ‘Ogwartz has also shown a solid performance, leaving the best and most beautiful of Beaxubatons in the shadows of shame. 

‘Merde, it wasn’t fair.’ 

Just after her thought had finished, the water erupted again, and instead of Potter, the one steering the beast was that Emiya fellow and - Madame Maxime had to suppress a relieved gasp of delight behind her delicate hand - Fleur was sitting behind him clutching at his waist while Emiya was holding little Gabrielle in front of him in a safe hold. 

A moment later, Potter’s head appeared on the surface too and now they could see it - he was holding the end of the rope that was tied around Fleur’s waist. 

Both Fleur and Emiya were looking like death warmed over - it was no wonder, what with the sub-zero temperatures and Fleur’s Veela heritage - but what could exhaust Emiya so much as to look like he was just shy of crossing the death’s door?

Hurriedly, Madame Maxime stood up and almost ran to the shore, disregarding the damage her fine clothes would suffer by her actions. 

The crowds roared in enthusiasm, the claps of their hands sounding like a distant thunder into the icy winter air. 

The Kelpie had approached the shore a little bit shower than before, but the beast was now burdened more heavily.

And finally, they were here. Fleur, Madame Maxime noted, didn’t deign to hold her tears in, but she was smiling at the same time, so she was alright. Her luscious hair was in strings and her swimming suit in tatters and oh! Her lovely skin was covered with scars and scabs and she was shaking terribly in the cold, but she was whole and alive and Gabrielle was okay too, safely ensconced in Emiya’s arms smiling shyly and snuggling into her savior. 

Finally, they were on the shore, and the Mediwizards were waiting on them, armed with Pepper Up potions, warm blankets and shoes. 

The Kelpie clomped out of the water and stood on the shore, patiently waiting on its passengers to get off of its back. 

The first one to dismount was Fleur. The Veela had done such a little bit awkwardly as her body was stiff from cold, but just a moment later, she was released from the rope, covered with a thick, heated blanket and being offered soft shoes to warm her feet. One of the healers also offered her a Pepper Up while another ran a diagnostic charm over her. 

The second one was Gabrielle, who left her man quite unwillingly, if her pout was anything to go by. But Emiya had smiled at her, and the little girl blushed and ducked her head, letting herself to be lifted off the Kelpie and snuggled into a warm blanket and Fleur’s relieved embrace. 

And then, there was Harry Potter, coming out of the water.

And oh my, wasn’t that a sight. 

Even if Madame Maxime had one eye on her dearest protégé, she certainly didn’t overlook a fine specimen rising out of the iced waters like a primordial deity of maleness. 

The ridges of those muscles… oh yes, more than worth of drooling over – 

She frowned as she noticed Potter didn’t have his necklace anymore, but she was rewarded by an unobstructed sight of his chest.

Ohh la la, and what a chest that was. 

Instead of allowing himself being ensconced into a blanket, Potter strode forward - just in time to catch the crumpling form of his partner falling from Kelpie’s back. 

That struck the Healers into a panicked frenzy that was stopped by a sharp word from Potter. 

Madame Maxime gasped. 

Oh, no - 

“Oh, Merlin - Emiya has fallen!” Bagman’s comment was painfully obvious. “What could’ve happened to this young man to be in such an ill state? And look, Potter doesn’t allow anyone to come closer!”

There was Madam Pomfrey, Maxime saw, who was arguing with Potter furiously, but the lad looked at her sharply and with a few choice words, she couldn’t do anything more than to retreat. The Healers seemed to be undecided, but followed her example.

“And Potter had placed Emiya on the cold ground - my, that lad surely doesn’t have any compassion for his comrade, and - what is he  doing!? ”

Bagman yelped out the last word as Potter pulled Emiya’s chin up unclenched his jaw and - and kissed him.

Then, he placed his hands on Emiya’s sternum and began to press down. Thirty times, and then he repeated.  The snowflakes  drifted around them, setting on their wet hair like some kind of winter adornment. 

Madame Maxime flushed. Ooh, my my, those  naughty  boys – 

She stared, enchanted, at the intense look Potter was giving his partner. It was a wonder the boy didn’t catch on fire, that it was!

Absentmindedly, she licked her lips.

Coming to this drafty old country  definitely had its perks.

* * *

Meanwhile, Kirei had his own set of problems. 

He had barely stopped the Healers from doing their stuff - with the state Kiritsugu was in, it wouldn’t have surprised him if it would took barely a lick of a spell from one of those wand-wavers to make his body spontaneously combust into thousands of bloody, grisly little pieces. 

He barely had to check his heartbeat to know that something was very, very wrong.

Kiritsugu didn’t breath. He was pale, his skin clammy under all that heat and he was unconscious. 

If Kirei were inclined to curses, he would have let out some of very foul ones. 

Instead of that, he unceremoniously placed the assassin on the cold ground - in the back of his mind he knew it wasn’t a good idea to do so, but better than risking an adverse reaction from some magic-warmed blankets.

Mechanically, he placed the head in the right position, took a breath and placed his lips on the cold ones beneath his own.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Press in. 

Release. 

He repeated the process three times and still nothing. 

One more time. 

Dark eyes narrowed as something burned in his chest and lodged into his throat. He spoke out only two words, but two words that withheld a myriad of feelings that raced through his brain but couldn’t be given proper words at the moment.

“Kiritsugu.  Live .”

Two words that made his left forearm feel on fire, but the messy-haired assassin under his palms gasped, sucking in the freezing air into his throat and immediately began coughing.

Kirei helped him to sit up and then, the Healers rushed in – 

“Non-warmed blanket.” Kirei ordered. The petite blonde Healer looked at him as if he were insane but she still acquiesced to his demand. Without further comment, Kirei bundled both of them into the same blanket, feeling Kiritsugu begin to shake uncontrollably against his body, both of them freezing cold with the remains of Kiritsugu’s aftermath of insanely high body warmth seeping between the two of them. He felt Kiritsugu burrow his head under his chin, and those frost-tipped hair spikes rustled against his throat.

Unpleasant sensations, but they all vanished in the knowledge that Kiritsugu lived.

It had been worth wasting a Commanding Seal.

Somehow, it was worth it. 

“And look, Emiya lives!” Bagman’s jovial voice boomed over them.

Slowly, they stood up, still clutching at each other as if they were each other’s single chance to live, their feet still freezing, and in the middle of the cacophony of the sounds that came from everywhere, but right there and then, it was their calm in the storm. 

He heard Kiritsugu laugh quietly - more like a small chuckle than a real laugh, and it made something within him – his lungs and chest - expand and feeling like they just got wings. 

“We made it.” Kiritsugu murmured to him as he looked at Luna waving at them and there was a small redhead being forcefully tended by another of the Healers as she was trying to see them.

“I’m hurt that you ever doubted in my plan.” Kirei muttered back flatly, the weak glare Kiritsugu threw at him not affecting him in the least. He inhaled. 

Kiritsugu smelled like water, charged ozone and gunpowder with the ice wind note predominating while the scent of cigarettes was fairly lessened, no doubt because of assassin’s forced abstinence from the cancer sticks.

They were prompted to wearing shoes - once again, Kirei wanted non-enchanted ones – and then, they were led to the place for the champions, both of them declining separate blankets. 

* * *

They were greeted by the other champions - Cedric smiling at them with relief while Cho gave them a minuscule nod, similar to the Durmstrang pair. Beauxbatons’ Violette was utterly indifferent, though Kiritsugu did see a small hint of guilt under her tough exterior. But Fleur was the one that acted utterly without restraints - almost running toward him and hugging him, thanking him in French.

“Merci, merci, merci, merci indéfiniment.” There were some cheeky whistles and hoots, and the quarter-Veela blushed, but stubbornly hung onto Kiritsugu until Kirei had had enough and gently pried her away from the still weakened assassin. 

Cedric coughed uncomfortably, and Kiritsugu schooled his face back into an implacable mask. He still intended to give the guy hell for his sunshine-and-daisies’ morning disposition. 

“And now, ladies and gentlemen, let’s find out just how well our champions have braved the water challenge!” Bagman’s cheerful voice boomed across the lake and stirring the crowd into another furor. 

“According to the Merchieftainess Murcus, both Emiya and Potter had been the first ones to reach the hostages – “ The crowd roared in astonishment – 

“ - followed by the Durmstrang and Hogwarts pairs. Sadly, Beauxbatons’ beauties arrived the last, both because they were the slowest and also because they had run into a nest of particularly aggressive Grindylows. As for their chosen methods of surviving under water - Durmstrang’s Krum and Makarov used a complex transfiguration of their heads into shark ones, a feat that rarely succeeds, and as such is all the more commendable!” Bagman waited a little to let the cheers die down. “Next, Diggory and Chang went for the simples and cleverest approach, a Gillyweed! A simple and reliable solution! So let’s hear it for our own!”

The cheers of Hogwarts’ students and sympathizers were deafening. “Next, Beauxbatons ventured into, excuse the pun, traditional waters with Charms and its very own Bubblehead Charm!” There was a laugh and clapping from the Beauxbatons supporters.

“As for the Fourth Champions… we’re not quite sure.” Bagman, for once, spoke seriously. “Whatever it was, it had to be a new kind of a spell, because neither of them used any kind of Muggle apparatus to breath under water.” The portly man eyed the last pair sharply. “So let’s hear it from the Pegasus’ own mouth, shall we?” He wagged the eyebrows at them, smirking what he probably thought it was a roguish smirk but it fell into a sad half-grimace. 

“Classified.” Kirei deadpanned. “And it was been a one-time use only, with a ninety percent chance of failure.”

Bagman’s face fell at the reply. “Ahem – “He coughed. “Mr. Potter kindly told me that the spell they used is classified, one time use-only and apparently has a ninety percent rate of failure.” The stands grew quiet with disbelief. 

It was a sheer  madness  to go into the field with such a risky spell, but those two whackos still attempted it - and succeeded. 

But - wait. 

They said it was a spell. So did that mean that they weren’t Squibs after all?

“Wait! You aren’t Squibs then!” Crouch interrupted, voicing the thoughts of the crowd. 

Kiritsugu eyed him flatly. “We are not Wizards if that’s what you mean.” His hoarse reply made the sharp-eyed man blanch and then flush with anger. “Why you – !“ Crouch began, only to be interrupted by Madame Maxime’s sharp glance.

“Then  what  are you two?”

“Just a humble priest and his companion.” Kirei replied serenely. “And that’s all you need to know.”

“But - But – “ Bagman stuttered flailing. “Surely our spectators deserve to know more?”

“Not really, my son.” Kirei replied. “It’s on a need-to-know basis, and you are not really in the need-to-know sort of a crowd.”

Bagman’s jaw flapped uselessly for some moments before he gathered his wits. “Mr. Potter says it’s on a need-to-know basis so let’s leave it at that and get to the action, shall we?” He became more enthusiastic again, almost bouncing on the balls of his feet in glee.

“Both Durmstrang and Hogwarts pair didn’t have any trouble with the Gryndilows on their way, with Hogwarts’ pair using the Water-Boiling curse to repel them, and Durmstrang’s own just… chomped them down.” A chorus of assorted sounds of disgust was being heard from the peanut gallery. Bagman grimaced, but continued on. “I feel your pain, folks, so let’s continue. Beauxbatons had significantly more trouble, but Miss de la Fére managed to successfully evade them, while they managed to gang up on Delacour. Luckily, she had been saved by her two knights in shining armor, Misters Potter and Emiya!” The stands roared once again.

“While they were occupied by the little beasts, they were beset by a Kelpie - yes, the very same one that is standing on the shore right now! And if I know my Care of Creatures right still, this beast is at least one hundred years old!” Bagman continued. “So you can imagine it is fairly hard to get rid of it without losing some pieces of body you all dearly cherish in process.”

“Meester Bagman! Dis isn’t a leçon on Care of Creatures!” Madame Maxime sharply interrupted the rambling man, causing the crowd to laugh and Bagman to flush with embarrassment.

“Oh, sorry, sorry, but they are such fascinating beasts - I always wanted to ride one…” Bagman sighed forlornly. “Anyway! “ He coughed importantly. “The two fellows somehow managed to tame the beast and used it as their mount of burden to arrive to the Merman village faster. What an ingenious idea! And then, they saved their hostages - in fact, it was Emiya who had liberated them of their ropes, and passed them on to Potter to get them safely to surface while he stayed back to monitor and help the other Champions!”

“Potter successfully accomplished his task, and then, to our great surprise, returned back to the village. Meanwhile, Emiya had lent his knife to both Durmstrang Champions to successfully cut the ropes - I shudder to think what would happen if they used their teeth!” He exclaimed, mock- horrified. “Miss de la Fére used the Cutting Charm, the clever girl, while miss Delacour struggled all the way with the Grindylows, the fault seems to lie in her Veela heritage, as water creatures are more notorious to attack the fire-based ones than any other ones. Delacour still continued on, struggling until Emiya did come and save the day - again.” Here, Bagman winked at the flushing quarter-Veela who nodded. “He had been helped by Potter, who, because Delacour had lost her wand in the struggle with Grindylows, released her hostage, and then took care to transport them to the surface on the Kelpie’s back. If I may say so, I really envy your  experience of riding, Miss Delacour.”

“No need to.” Fleur replied back shortly.

The crowd chuckled at her sass while Bagman mock-pouted. “You wound me, dear heart.” He moaned. “As it is, all competitors and hostages are present and accounted for, even if it did seem that Emiya was in a hard spot for a while. So, now that we finished the review of their little underwater adventure – “The Champions glared at the happy-go-lucky man for the phrase – “it is time to find out whose performance deserved this event’s top spot!

The crowd roared out their assent, and people began to chant the names of their favorites. 

“DURM-STRANG! DURM-STRANG!”

“DE-LA-COUR! DE-LA-COUR! DE-LA-COUR!”

“HOG-WARTS! HOG-WARTS!”

“VI-VI! VI-VI!”

“KER-RY! KER-RY! KER-RY!” Kiritsugu jerked with surprise at hearing his name, blinking owlishly from his spot under Kirei’s jaw. 

“KER-RY! HAR-RY! KER-RY! HAR-RY!” The noise became even louder, making Kirei want to cringe. And why, in all that’s holy were they going with that ‘Harry’ name once again? He was Kotomine Kirei! 

“I will  slaughter  the  one whose bright idea was to call me Vivi.” Violette muttered darkly as she looked over the stands. 

“I will help… if you help me find the ones that mauled my own name.” Kirei grumped, startling a couple of chuckles from the rest of the Champions.

“ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT! “ Bagman’s voice boomed over tribunes. “Sheesh, you are loud enough to remind me of my old glory days on the professional Quidditch pitch! Ah, those were the times - but right now, I am sure you want to hear the cold hard… numbers! Are you ready?” He screamed at the crowd getting a roar of approval back. 

“Well, let’s hear it from our esteemed judges. It seems that this time Beauxbatons definitely didn’t have any luck this time, so sorry ladies, you earned fourth place with 27 points. But still, my hat off to Mademoiselle Delacour for her courage in the face of adversity!” He bowed to the flushing Beauxbatons’ Champion, with a briefly raised hat. “Next are…Potter and Emiya! What, surely that can’t be right?” He blinked, confused, and the crowd murmured their own assent. 

“Ah-hem. “ Crouch stood up, coughing politely. “Yes, it is. Firstly, they lost the points on the account of using the spell that may have backfired on them terribly and it’s a pure dumb luck the lads are whole and healthy where they are – “ “Cranky old codger – “ Kiritsugu muttered, narrowing his eyes at the old judge. “- and then, the main reason, because they saved the hostages, be that directly or indirectly. Thus, they only owned up to 34 points. “The crowd murmured in discontent, but settled in anticipation of the grand finale. 

“Ah. Now, this makes sense.” Bagman admitted uncomfortably. “Moving on, we now have the two contenders for the top spot of this event. Second place belongs to…Hogwarts’ best and brightest, Diggory and Chang with 42 points! Well done, lovebirds!”

The Hogwarts’ supporters roared in glee. “And now, the first ones are - for the first time in this prestigious event - Durmstrang’s Viktor Krum and Jevgeniy Makarov with amazing 48 points!

Kirei felt Kiritsugu slump against him. 

“Shall we go now?”

Dark eyes looked up at him with a cutting edge. 

“You really need to ask?”

Once again, the intrepid duo gave a proverbial sleight of hand to the nosy reporters and annoying photographers. Not that their fellow Champions minded - the entire affair, in their minds, was one whole lot of bollocks. 

If anything, they envied them very much.

* * *

Next day in the  Daily Prophet:

MURDERERS IN LOVE – THE TRUE ACCOUNT OF THE HAPPENINGS UNDERWATER OF THE BLACK LAKE

As written by Rita Skeeter.

Neither Kiritsugu nor Kirei saw the rag’s defamation of their characters. Instead, they chose to snooze the day away, snug as bugs, in their bed.

* * *

/To Be Continued/

 


	6. Taking down names in my book of jealousy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own neither Harry Potter nor Fate Zero or their characters. But I do own this little story.
> 
> Shout Out: I feel I owe all of you one big apology for my absence - wait, it’s the Real life that is the culprit. So I am inviting you all to get a kick out of it for however long y’all live it. I am busy as it is, but I finally managed to drag out the next piece of story from its cozy little nest, kicking and screaming. All the praises and thanks to my beta Luna13, who has, once again, done wonders with the bastardizing French English in its appropriate shape, along with beta-ing the monster further despite the controversial theme therein. /grimaces/. I really ought to stop throwing curve balls… by the way, whole we are at the curve balls, some of you are scarily close in your little suppositions about the story. Yipes. I didn’t know I had a horde of resident Sherlocks after my story tail. (Pun intended.) Not telling who is right or wrong, you will just have to find it out for yourselves /evil grin/.
> 
> Warnings: AU-verse. Slash, meaning Kirei /Kiritsugu, gory violence, and brief mention of attempted rape. If you are uncomfortable with the last one, I advise you not to read the pertinent parts. 
> 
> Dictionary: Yeah. French all the way. /long-suffering sigh/. Give your profoundly hanks to Luna13 for this one. Latin one is in the notes at the bottom if anyone is curious enough, for the sake of not having spoilers ahoy here. 
> 
> Carte blanche - white card, usually denoting a bank slip that is signed, but has no numerical value signed yet, but it can also mean a signed permission slip that grants its owner whatever he says it grants them. Usually mostly used in diplomacy matters. i.e. - someone had been given a carte blanche in a department.
> 
> Bonsoir, mademoiselle.”- Good evening, miss
> 
> Entrez!- Enter!
> 
> Bien, Merci.- Good, thanks.
> 
> “En amour comme à la guerre, tous les coups sont permis.” - All is fair in love and war. 
> 
> le beau monde - High society, usually meaning aristocracy
> 
> Oui. Mais oui, il - il est mon élu. – Yes. But he – he’s my companion. 
> 
> Que c’est-il passé ? – What happened ?
> 
> Bâtard - bastard
> 
> Oh, mon Dieu - Oh, my God.
> 
> mais qu’est-ce qui t’as pris - what have you done this time ?

* * *

Kiritsugu was leaning against the boulder near the lake, enjoying the first marginally warm day in a long while. It would have been a shame to hole himself into the rooms or library, because right now, he didn’t really want to have any company, mainly in the shape of that annoying priest or troublesome stalkers. So he had managed to sneak out of his room to his little place. The boulder was big enough to hide him from any nosey people, and Kiritsugu knew well enough that not many people would have followed him to the lake, especially after the fiasco that had been the second task. The grass around was still in pale brown color, with some green blades among it while the lake was of an deep gray color, as if mocking the blue sky that carried small white clouds here and there.

 _‘Only one seal.’_ Kiritsugu looked at his forearm, brows furrowing faintly at the part of the spiral that had been a stylized wing slash spider leg at the beginning of that crazy adventure. It had taken a better part of the month for him to recover, even with the use of Avalon. He had been on the verge of death, feeling himself slipping into the darkness of oblivion, relieved that he would soon be released from the agony that coursed his body, and maybe, just maybe, be reunited with Iri. His only regret, though, was that he was leaving Ilya behind - he didn’t want to leave her back at the Einzbern Castle, but logic dictated that it would be better for him to not have anyone that could be used to potentially blackmail him with - and Ilya was one such person. Irisviel had been needed because she was a homunculus holding Holy Grail within herself - he had tried to keep her safe as much as he could, ordering Saber to protect her at all costs, he had done everything in his power to eliminate the competition, even going so far as to double-cross Kayneth and his Servant. Yes, this had been a very underhanded way of eliminating the competition, but in the Grail War Kiritsugu had been playing with the highest stakes ever, and he didn’t intend to give up the final reward to anyone for anything in the world.

The final confrontation had been the one he had feared and anticipated the most. He had known that only two out of seven would come out from this mess, and doubtlessly, that the other person would be one Kotomine Kirei. And instead of getting his wish, he had been stuck with the priestly bastard at some magic castle and forced into a mockery of a Grail War Tournament.

One of his side pet projects when he had been bedridden was researching Goblet of Fire and its origins. He had been sure that it was some kind of an off-shot of Holy Grail, only it didn’t Summon Servants but instead chose the competitors by some other unfathomable measures. As far as he knew, there had been no security measures deployed when the choosing of the Champions was in process, aside the age line. And for Kirei to be dragged into mess, it had been just plain weird.

He knew Kirei’s data by heart - abandoned baby, adopted by one Kotomine Risei on 28th December 1967, grew up under the old priest’s metaphoric wing, got exemplary grades, and when he had been old enough, attended Theological College of Manresa St. Ignacio where he skipped two grades and acted as a student council president.

And yet… he was an anomaly. He had been married, but he wasn’t really devoted to his family. He had been one of the best Executors, yet he had abandoned his path. And so on, the motive had repeated - anything the young priest had thrown himself into learning, he had accomplished within an amazingly short time frame, and yet, he didn’t take this last, final step.

 _‘Jack of all trades, master of none.‘_ This little saying denoted Kirei perfectly.

And because of that, Kirei was the last and most dangerous opponent Kiritsugu had faced. If he hadn’t stolen Saber’s scabbard, the one who would have won the Grail War would have been Kirei.

Or maybe not, if that little side adventure was any indication.

Still, the fact remained, Kiritsugu pondered, that both of them were stuck with each other for the foreseeable future - and it wasn’t such a lamentable situation he had once thought it being.

Kirei was… _tolerable_. In him, Kiritsugu found an intelligent and educated conversationalist when they bothered to talk with each other. And his solution of using reserve Command Seals to put their bodies into a kind of a suspended animation while they were underwater was ingenious. Insane even by Kiritsugu’s standards, but it had worked. Of course it had taken two or three tries to get the thing done right, with much spluttering and cursing on Kiritsugu’s part, but when they hammered out the minor difficulties, the tweaking and transferring of the Seals had gone without a hitch.

With such knowledge, Kirei could’ve been practically a God if he had applied himself to the field of Spirit Healing…Or the greatest of monsters. The masters of this field were far and few between, and in the Church, Kirei was the only one to have such a skill, courtesy of his unusual upbringing and mixing both Holy and Magus’ arts.

But the priest was twisted by his unending thirst for knowledge and his own imperfection, a wild beast on the verge of outbreak. It wasn’t so simple as to instill a moral code within him; he had it, but he was utterly incapable of sympathizing with people and more inclined to drive them around the bend. He had certainly enjoyed Kiritsugu’s twisted form of revenge on those infernal Weasley twins. But that didn’t exclude Kiritsugu from being the priest’s target in his weird game of pulling Kiritsugu’s proverbial threads more often than not.

This reminded him, Kirei was still holding his precious cigarettes hostage. And no matter how much Kiritsugu searched, he didn’t find them. And no, he wouldn’t damn well ask the shitty priest where he hid them!

(It would be akin to admitting defeat and that would have left a sour taste in Kiritsugu’s mouth.)

But now, they had some kind of a truce between them, the tension seemingly bleeding out the night after the second task when they had snuggled together in one bed, not bothering to change into pajamas and discarding the swimming trunks. It should have been weird to sleep naked together, but that one time, both of them hadn’t given a flying fuck about modesty – they had seen each other naked enough times in the Prefect bathroom when they had been testing the Seals for the underwater task.

In the morning, there was a slight awkwardness, but after taking care of their bladders, both of them tumbled back between the sheets, unconsciously snuggling together with Kiritsugu placing his head on Kirei’s chest and the priest embracing him, while putting his chin on the top of assassin’s head.

Strange, how he got used to his presence so completely – it was so unlike the Magus Killer to be so carefree with his body - of course, Iri was an exception, but she was an innocent exception - the homunculus wasn’t harmful in the least, more akin to an innocent child in a grown up female body when he had taken her in. Kiritsugu was no fool - he knew that part of it was because both of them were in unfamiliar surroundings and as such they were the just familiar, and to the extent predictable - thing to each other, so it was only natural they had built the bond, however shaky and awkward it was, helped along with the Dream Cycles both of them slept through at night.

A monster. But a thinking, lost monster, questioning why his strange urges weren’t socially acceptable when he had been born with them, and forced to suppress them in order to be seen a normal functioning person. A monster who was willing to witness the birth of All the World’s Evil to get the answers to his questions.

But wasn’t Kiritsugu a monster too? His own measure of right and wrong was skewed too much to be claimed as ‘good’, no matter how many of people he had saved in process.

Kill one, save ten. Kill ten, save hundred. Kill hundred, save thousand…

His lips quirked into a mirthless smirk, before flattening back to their default dull expression.

He was no closer to the reward himself.

Reward… or punishment?

As far as he could discern, it was a freaky happenstance - one in a million - that landed them in this Triwizard Tournament. His mouth curved into a mirthless smile when he remembered what he had read about this particular competition.

Competition of best and brightest.

More like _slaughter_ of supposedly best and brightest. Magi at least knew what they were getting into when they were chosen to participate in Grail Wars, as their everyday reality included practically walking with death hand in hand. But wizards…Kiritsugu shook his head with disgust. Those people had sticks and because of them they thought they were invincible, a pinnacle of the human race, the ones who had the rights to take and change everything they could.

He remembered the dreams –

_He stood in the dark place, only a faint moonlight crawling on the stone surface of the floor. The building he was in was a half-ruined gothic church, where the wooden pews were broken here and there, the altar was already without its holy signs, with the cold wind drafting through the broken windows. The shades crawled around like dark assassins, enveloping the entire place within the invisible shroud of dread._

_His eyes caught a form that was approaching the altar - slim, almost willowy in its appearance, clothed in simple, dark clothes. A small glint flashed from the person’s chest region before they walked past him, the cloak obscuring their features, and concealing the wearer’s gender quite efficiently._

_A small dark chuckle sounded from the darkness, making Kiritsugu’s head jerk around._

_“Ooh, a meal, a meal,” The voice sing-songed. “How kind of you that you came here.”_

_The cloaked person didn’t turn - instead, they knelt in front of the altar and with their right hand made a sign of the cross , touching their forehead, then chest, left shoulder and then right shoulder. The hand was almost unearthly pale in the weak light, slender and fragile looking, like a hand of an artist._

_“Be gone, creature. This is a holy house.” The voice murmured out._

_“Hee, hee hee.” The self-same voice snickered, and then, there was a small thump heard when it landed on the ground. “Holy house, holy house, indeed. But this isn’t a holy house anymore - look how deserted and ruined it is? And anyway, finders keepers, losers weepers. “ The creature tilted it’s head, slivery hair spilling over its slender shoulders to the front in seductive waterfall as it licked dark, perfectly painted lips. It was clothed into revealing clothes, showing off its assets quite effectively._

_A Succubus. And not any Succubus - but one quite aged and powerful, what with its’ brazen invasion of the holy grounds. Usually, Succubi avoided such places with fervor, because of their inherent holiness, but this place had been ruined, and through time, the lack of faith and belief had lessened the invisible protections upon it. Only occasionally, a visitor had roamed through the ruins, and even then, it was a very rare happening for such a person to find those ruins._

_“Hmm-mm.” A melodious purr cut through the darkness, a simple sound that shouldn’t be so seductive in the first place. “But it’s good of you to happen to be here…. I was getting quite…ravenous.” The Succubus licked its lips, dark eyes looking upon the cloaked form kneeling at the altar hungrily._

_However, instead of being deigned of answer, the creature’s hooded eyes narrowed at its’ pious prey’s narration:_

_“De profundis clamavi ad te, Domine:_   
_Domine, exaudi vocem meam:”_

_The voice, upon hearing it again, was undoubtedly male. It was smooth, not stumbling over the enunciations of the words, like many would have._

_“Nobody is hearing your pitiful voice here, wanderer.” The succubus hissed, its pale, so very pale eyes narrowing with irritation. Its light hand twitched, dragging attention to the long dark nails residing at the tips of its fingers. “Besides,” it continued silkily, “it’s not nice to ignore your host for this evening.”_

_It sashayed toward its prey, the moonlight finally illuminating its form. It was in the shape of a beautifully formed woman – truly, no ordinary mortal could reach even the bare ankle of this being when concerning beauty. But this beauty had an accent of something unnatural and cruel, likening it to the venus flytrap - so very colorful and innocent looking, but at the same, it was a predator still. Long sliver hair reached almost to the floor glinting mysteriously in the moonlight. Its face was, with exception of lips and pupils, pale and painted with different gray shades on a white background. It was clothed in black corset that hugged its torso becomingly what with it being black lace, tied on the back with silky threads. The skirt it wore was also black and scandalously short - almost less than half of its thigh’s length, and there were glints on the hip sides, where the fabric was held on its place via two silver rings, one for each side. It also wore black high heels that clacked ominously as it prowled toward the unprotected back of its prey._

_“Fiant aures tuae intendentes,_   
_in vocem deprecationis meae.”_

_“I will listen to you anytime, anywhere.” It purred as it came close to the still kneeling form, slender hand reaching for a hood of its unknown guest. Black lips were licked hungrily as the likewise colored tail unwound itself from the slender waist, swishing gently up and down, the diamond shaped tip glinting ominously in the shard of light that came from the window._

_The kneeling form didn’t show any reaction to its closeness. The whole picture the pair made could be termed as beautiful, like some kind of fallen angel protecting the believer –_

_“Si iniquitates observaveris, Domine:_   
_Domine, quis sustinebit?_   
_Quia apud te propitiatio est:_   
_et propter legem tuam sustinui te, Domine.”_

_“You don’t need to wait on him, loveling.” The Succubus purred once again, finally dragging the hood down and revealing the shock of brown hair, pale, black-nailed fingers dragging greedily through the soft tresses, black nails scratching gently as to arouse some kind of a reaction from the supplicant while it’s form pressed against still cloaked back, its breasts were being squeezed between two bodies tight, tighter, the tightest, the softness and warmth of them all geared to incite the lesser mortal to succumb to the carnal invitation of their owner –_

_“Sustinuit anima mea in verbo eius:_   
_speravit anima mea in Domino._   
_A custodia matutina usque ad noctem:_   
_speret Israel in Domino.”_

_The low voice continued, while man’s patrician face and blank brown eyes remained unchanged in the body of the temptation._

_And then, there was an ugly hiss as those wandering fingers that slid down from the strong shoulder, against the neck and onto the chest came in contact with –_

_**“Cross!** You bastard, you are holy - !”_

_The Succubus’s rant was interrupted by its hand being grabbed into a steely hold, and a moment later, its body sailed through the air as it were a straw-filled doll and a moment later, it crashed against the tabernacle._

**_*Crash-Boom!*_ **

_If that had been an ordinary person, they would have suffered broken spine, partially pulverized ribs, head trauma and generally speaking they would have been deader than a doornail as soon as they would have touched the ground - if not from the injuries, then from the avalanche of the stones that covered the shell-shocked Succubus._

_“Quia apud Dominum misericordia:_   
_et copiosa apud eum redemptio.”_

_The man continued, as if he had only swatted an annoying fly. Which prompted an enraged shriek from the Succubus._

_Never – ever - did its prey successfully landed a hit on it._

_“My face! My beautiful **face!** ” It shrieked as it touched the bloodied cheek. It’s clothes were now strategically ripped, giving the man in front of the altar an eyeful as it rose from the rubble - it’s torso was, despite of the dust and dark blood decorating it, a work of art – perky, not too big or small breasts, slender waist, the lower part of its body only partially covered by a small, barely hanging on, piece of fabric –_

_-but that didn’t slow it down as it sprang up, fangs bared at its prey, its face beautifully savage as it rocketed toward the man._

_Oh yes, this man would be tortured, his life force would be all the more delicious when it will have him under its mercy, and what was even better, this man was still innocent so his life force and blood would be doubly as delicious as usual and –_

_It clawed at the man’s face, only for its claws to be deflected, but it expected that, and used its legs, kicking the man into his stomach –_

_-only for the kick to be deflected too and being on a receiving end of bone-shattering punch into face that rattled its left side of the face, and it felt the cheekbone break under the force of the hit –_

_“Et ipse redimet Israel,_   
_ex omnibus iniquitatibus eius.”_

_The man was praying on, as if he wasn’t engaged in the fight with the Duchess of Sin, using only his body to defeat the demonic abomination in front of him, disregarding its shrieks and threats with calm aplomb. It would have been a beautiful sight if –_

_*Slice!*_

_A triumphant, blood filled grin appeared on the succubus face as it managed to drag its claws across the mans’ chest and just in a few seconds, there would be no help to the holy nuisance that invaded its hunting grounds._

_Lesser known feature of Succubi was that they secreted a very powerful aphrodisiac from their claws as to make their prey more susceptible to rutting with them. Usually, this was used as a some kind of a last resort, when Succubi was finishing its feeding to speed up the process of gathering its prey’s life energy, but it could also be used as a weapon in case when they had to fight hunters or subdue a particularly stubborn prey. It was for a good reason that Succubi weren’t sold in the underground slave market - one tiny, itty bitty scratch, and their prey was, even if they didn’t know it yet, done for._

_The priest froze, dark eyes widening as he choked through the body’s sudden inflammation of carnal desire. Unwillingly, he crashed on his knees in the attempt of staving off the seductive call of submitting to the urges he had been purging his body of for so long -_

_It licked its chops in anticipation. “The fight was all good, darling… it definitely fired me up.” It cooed as it advanced to the gasping priest. “You were good, pet, but you made me ve-ry unhappy.” It pouted as it threaded its left hand through its messy hair to tidy it up a little._

_“Glo-ria Patri, et Filio – “ The priest gasped as he hunched forward, right hand clenching over the sluggishly bleeding wounds on his chest, pale face grimacing a little with the strange agony that was coursing through his body._   
_“-et Spiritui Sancto.” Dull eyes glared at the smug Succubus as his cheeks flushed with unneeded, and definitely unwanted arousal. Left hand scrabbled on the floor, as if searching for an anchor to weather its owner through those strong feelings._

_The Succubus giggled triumphantly, the loud sound echoing ominously through the ruined place._

_“Aah, naughty, naughty little pet. Where is your God now?” It cooed, lips stretched in a mocking smile. “Surely now you wish to accept my proposal, honey?” It clawed its pointer finger on the back of priest’s neck, carelessly ripping the cloth asunder, shuddering deliciously at the scent of the blood that wafted in the cold night air. “Come now, I promise I don’t bite... Much.”_

_Pale eyes blinked in confusion as a sharp lance of pain sliced through its stomach._

_“Sicut erat in principio, et nunc, et semper,_   
_et in saecula saeculorum.”_

_The priest hissed at the monster, dark eyes cold and empty as void, making the Succubus instinctively jerk back, pale eyes wide with terror. “W – What are you?” It gasped before keening with agony as the priest twisted the trio of pale blue blades even deeper into its tainted flesh._

_It shuddered, the realization creeping into its awareness, all too late._

_This… was not a priest. This… was a Magus and –_

_It didn’t have time for further contemplation as another of those glowing blue blades found its way into both its throat and eye._

_“Amen.” The priest breathed out as the Succubus had been killed, the effect of its poison on his person dulling a little, enough that he hadn’t felt an urge to fornicate with the nearest warm body._

_And then, he stood up, and Kiritsugu was treated with the vision of one Kotomine Kirei, age 18, the winner of the unexpected bout with an XXX-rated creature._

_“Mission accomplished.” The priest commented, before turning away from the corpse as he began to walk through the dilapidated building, his steps echoing like loneliness._

_And something within Kiritsugu’s heart twisted in sympathy._

“ ’ello?” The voice called him, making Kiritsugu blink when he fought his way back to reality standing on the lake shore. This little walk was intended for him to clear his head, but instead, he was pondering the latest revelation of the mystery that was named Kotomine Kirei.

“Yes?” His answer was belated as he shook his head to lose those Kirei-shaped thoughts out of it. Blinking again, dark eyes focused on the French beauty in front of him. Kiritsugu fought the urge to grimace.

Of course. If it’s not one, it is another. Luckily, Daphne was preoccupied with the scheming going on in Slytherin, but that only meant he was saddled with little Miss Beauxbatons herself, one Fleur Delacour. At least he was safe from the littlest Veela… somewhat.

The quarter-Veela smiled at him, her lips curled in a small, almost shy curve. “I vas callin’ you for some time, now. Deep zoughts?” She half-asked, half-teased him. Kiritsugu nodded. “Something like that.” His laconic answer made the girl pout with annoyance, but she soon recovered. “Oh, oui. But I didn’t really come ‘ere for zis.” She waved airily as to accentuate the unimportance of the happening. “ I waz wonderin’ if you are - if you are free tomorrow. Gabby would like to zee you, and I believe dat, I myself, ’ave to thank you for your heroic deeds.” She gave him a glowing smile that made him remember the predator that starred in Kirei’s fight in that old church. Something tickled at the borders of his consciousness, but he dismissed the fuzzy feeling with an ease, born of long practice.

“I would be honored too, Miss Delacour,” he nodded to the half-Veela politely. “I presume you already made the arrangements?”

The quarter-Veela blushed. “Of course. But I had ’oped anyway…” she ducked her head, as if shy, making Kiritsugu’s fingers itch to tousle those silky strands of hair like he had used to do to Iri and Ilya when he was in a mischievous mood. Ah, those simple times…

“Well, if you would be amenable to coming at 6 in the evening to the carriages, it would be much appreciated.” Fleur hurriedly finished before excusing herself and fleeing before Kiritsugu could get a word in edgewise.

Kiritsugu stared after the fleeing girl and shook his head bemusedly. “Girls.” The one enemy he never managed to understand.

Nor did he attempt to.

* * *

Aside from his entertainment in the shape of Kiritsugu torturing the Devil Weasleys via self-pranks, Kirei didn’t really have anything exciting to mingle with the society. Actually, their schedules in that sense were dreadfully dull - attend the meal times in Great Hall, go to the Library for additional data, hole themselves in their room, have their debates or spars, prepare for whatever asinine task the wand-wavers - ahem, wizards - would throw at them next, mix, rinse and repeat. Of course, there was little Luna Lovegood, who occasionally dragged Kiritsugu away for some reason or another, but they were mostly secluded in their assigned room, not that Kirei minded. The less questions he was bombarded with, the better, even if he did have to admit to be perversely enjoying their scandalized reactions when he just honestly replied to their questions. Even if he did walk the thin line here – Tohsaka Tokiomi would have had a heart attack or two – or three, if he was still alive, with how close Kirei had come to revealing the existence of Magi. Not that it concerned Kirei - he was, after all, a devoted servant of cloth. And the Church and Clock Tower didn’t really get along…both factions acknowledged each other on some matters, as Executors were occasionally called in to curb some more disturbing …results of research gone wrong, while Magi were keeping their noses clean of the matters the Church deemed sacrosanct.. mostly. There were always some exceptions who thought, excuse the language, that they were too big for their britches.

However, both the Church and Clock Tower had a common irritant - and that was a foolish race of wand-wavers. Those troublemakers were not really welcome in their circles, even if there were some wizards, and a witch that had been positioned in high places in the Church’s hierarchy - if he remembered right, there was also a Squib or two who were pronounced as saints. Those exceptions didn’t really have anything to do with Wizarding world, even if they did bring some very valuable insight in how the Wizards and Witches operated - one of the authors of Malleus Maleficarium was an embittered wizard, who had been cast out of his family because of his refusal to stop the practice of worshipping the Holy Trinity. They had bound his magic, renounced him, and by all accounts, the man should have been dead, but he had a dubious luck of being thrown out near monastery – the monks found him, healed his wounds and only a month later, the man entered their brotherhood as a novice. As he had been highly educated, compared to their peers, he quickly rose to a respectable position, and in revenge to being cast out of his family, he began to write the book that would cause some of the greatest prosecutions of the magic-gifted humans. Even if the book’s teachings had been repealed some hundred years after the first issue had been printed, the Church’s opinion of the wand-wavers wasn’t any better that it had been to begin with. But their long co-existence with Magi had taught the upper echelons of the Church that, not all things were black and white, but merely in many shades of gray, and as such, the original book and it’s instructions on how to deal with Dark Wizards and Witches along with Necromancers, was carefully preserved in the deepest bowels of the secret Vatican’s catacombs, available only to the truly tested and devoted. Really, it was exasperating, but between those two entities, their respective members had averted at least ten world-class disasters, if not more, all caused by wand-wavers.

But enough of history. Kirei shook his head. What mattered now was for them to find out more about the fake Grail and somehow dismantle it, along with destroying anything that pertained its’ creation. This and of course, Kirei had to report to his superiors the wizards’ appalling idiocy he had somehow managed to get dragged in. But in all that furor of tasks, strange ghosts and Yule Ball madness he managed to get distracted from his secondary goal; primary winning the Tournament. With that thought in mind, he closed the book he had been perusing before and returned it back to its place. The library was quiet, with only an occasional Ravenclaw doing their research or homework. The weather outside was tempting enough for students to take a chance and get outside. Kiritsugu had done the same, while Kirei opted for spending some more time in the library, if only because he had to take advantage of a temporary peace in the place.

And of course, research. With them practically having been given _carte blanche_ on the library contents, they were neck deep in the texts - at least Kirei was, as it was interesting to read about the wizarding perspective and discoveries, as it illuminated many blind spots the Church had in their archives regarding the mysteriously foolish species known as wizards and witches. Kiritsugu wasn’t as interested in history - despite his grumbling and occasional scowl, he poked his nose in the texts that dealt with strange animals and, surprisingly, runes. Even if the assassin couldn’t use them, they were apparently interesting enough for Kiritsugu to delve in the thick monster of a book he had in his room.

Speaking of Kiritsugu... Kirei blinked as he remembered that the messy-haired youth apparently had the same idea and went out on a stroll around the school grounds. Kiritsugu didn’t do that regularly, but once in a while, the assassin apparently had to vent the thoughts that bothered him in the shape of long walks. Not that Kirei begrudged him for it - Kiritsugu was an intensely private person, and he saw how it chafed the man to be in close quarters with his person. Still, he couldn’t help but feel a small bite of a loss at such occasions, jealousy growing quietly and becoming more pronounced. He didn’t know when that happened, or why, but both of them now went against the same opponent. Even if they had been forced to team up by that fake Grail, Kirei could recall being paired with many not so likeable persons before. He never had that hollow feeling in his gut that made him uneasy and a trifle bit angry with these past partnership. Just like when he saw Kiritsugu talk with that Greengrass girl.

They didn’t understand him. They didn’t know the polite, a little bit scruffy-looking now-teenager with unfathomable black eyes and messy black hair. They all thought he was temperamental and a little bit Gryffindorish in his mannerisms - they didn’t know that this youth could - and would - sacrifice them if the occasion demanded. They didn’t know his creed, nor his sufferings or how his hands were red with blood of thousands. They didn’t know the exhilaration of fighting with him, those tiny moments, like starbursts of feeling when Kiritsugu had done something to surprise him - even if those ‘surprises’ were of a painful, if not outright lethal variety. They didn’t know his determination, his almost suicidal will to do anything to win.

Kirei did. Kirei knew Kiritsugu - from when he was a small, brightly smiling boy who had loved to swim underneath the sea surface and had dreams of saving the world. Kirei knew the boy that killed his own father to protect the people living on that tiny island. Kirei knew the teenager who screamed in anguish after he had crashed the plane with his mentor boarded on it. Kirei knew his secret - his Origin - the bullets, both their origin and effects - intimately. He admired the assassin for his perseverance, his ingenuity his ruthlessness, his emptiness - for being a mirror to him, having but not having, holding but begin unable to hold on. He knew how fragile the assassin was, even if he was showing the world this steel-hard outer core of an utter, complete and unrepentant bastard.

And he craved his smiles.

Dark brown eyes blinked as the thought blinkered through his mind. Craved his smiles?

He had seen those smiles in his dream cycles, which made them all the more special, because in reality, Kiritsugu didn’t really smile. A smirk on occasion, frown definitely, blank or angry face, and when he was asleep, his face was devoid of any emotions, and Kirei had seen him panicked when they had to solve the riddle of the second task. But smiles - smiles like the ones he had shared with those two white-haired beings and Luna - no, those weren’t aimed at Kirei, no matter how much he wished they would have been.

He tried. In his own awkward way. He was polite and when they sparred, Kirei abided by rules. Not that he wouldn’t have had, because he was polite like that, but it was the thought that counted, didn’t it? And when they were debating - well, he tried there too, albeit with not much of a success, as evidenced with Kiritsugu holding back his approval. The only small - tiny, really - victory Kirei could really count was when he had had a breakthrough in use of the seals for the second task underwater, and even then it was only for a split second.

It really didn’t help that Kirei relived that itty bitty little moment even long after the assassin was snoozing the night away in his embrace that night.

Yes, Kirei admitted to himself. He craved Emiya Kiritsugu’s smiles. And with that thought in mind, he tidied up his reading place, intending to head out to find his companion to see if maybe today he would have another of those addictive little smiles aimed at him.

* * *

No such luck. And what was even worse, Kiritsugu had some kind of a date with that French chick! Oh, no, it wasn’t paraphrased as such, it was just a get-to-know-each-other meeting, but in essence, it was a date.

Kiritsugu shifted uncomfortably under those dark brown eyes. He should have said he was sorry, but he was not sorry, and Kirei was definitely not master of his time, so –

But the uncomfortable silence between them stretched like molasses, lazy, dangerous and explosive. Not that Kiritsugu really wanted to go to that little tête-a-tête, but if the shoe fits…

He just wanted some time away from Kirei, dammit! Not that the priest was a bad company - on the contrary - but seriously, Kiritsugu was beginning to feel a little too sympathetic to the guy, and that was a no-no.

And now, he had a delusion of Kirei looking like kicked little puppy… of a hellhound variant. Well, he never even attempted to claim that Kirei wasn’t dangerous, but seriously, that shitty priest was becoming a little too clingy for his tastes…

He should’ve felt guilty about cancelling their evening spar in lieu of a date. But he couldn’t, especially when one little girl was looking forward to his visit.

“Very well.” Kirei finally spoke, and Kiritsugu couldn’t help but wince at the cold voice. The priest was now even more expressionless if that was possible - to a degree Kiritsugu thought that this little crestfallen expression was just a delusion on his part. Resolutely, he swore to himself that he would be sleeping by himself this night.

Suffice to say, neither of them did get a good rest this night.

* * *

Next day was spent in a fairly tense atmosphere - Kirei was actively avoiding Kiritsugu, much to the confusion of everyone, and the assassin himself was grumpier than usual, not even acknowledging Luna as he usually did, but the flaxen-haired Ravenclaw oddball didn’t mind. If anyone would have asked her, they would have gotten an answer that both of them were infested with breeding Nargles and that would be that. Of course, she gifted Kiritsugu with the necklace to ward off the pesky creatures, and as to not hurt her feelings, the assassin dutifully hung it around his neck, even if it was strange, what with it being made from corkscrews and some loose feathers from unknown species of birds.

At 6 on the dot in the evening, Kiritsugu knocked on the door of Beauxbatons’ carriage. He felt almost relieved that he had escaped from Kirei, but at the same time, unreasonably guilty. He shook his head, huffing slightly. He was here now, and he decided to spend a good evening in a beautiful company.

The sun was setting down and the birds were singing softly, as if in farewell to a beautifully sunny day. It was a day when the students were bemoaning that they had to be cramped in the classrooms instead of enjoying the outdoors, but teachers were adamant - school day was a school day, and they were already slacking enough what with playing host to the Triwizard Tournament. Kiritsugu didn’t have such worries, but the entire experience was soured because he didn’t have his ever-present priest-shaped shadow alongside him. And he didn’t even know just how much he became dependent to that live warmth in his proximity when he was sleeping.

So it’s not really big step to the conclusion that Kiritsugu was currently grumpy, cranky and overall homicidally determined to have a good evening even if it killed him, just to prove that he was the damned Magus Killer and he damned well didn’t care about that abandoned kitten of a priest! No, no siree, not him.

The black and gold-gilded doors opened, revealing beaming Beauxbatons’ Champion. Fleur was clothed in a simple ensemble of white blouse with dark blue skirt and same colored high-heeled shoes, along with her golden hair being twisted into an elegant bun at the back of her head, with a pair of small braids enhancing the simplicity of the hairstyle, making her a little bit older, along with the small sapphire hanging earrings in her earlobes. Aside from that, she didn’t wear any makeup, letting the healthy glow of her skin accentuate the small blush on her cheeks. Blue eyes were shining with expectation and she was ... Kiritsugu’s heart clenched - almost as beautiful as Irisviel. But he quickly composed himself. Fleur, even as beautiful as she was, didn’t have even a chance of claiming Iri’s spot in his heart. And she never would.

 _“Bonsoir, mademoiselle.”_ Kiritsugu shallowly bowed and offered her a bouquet of pink and white daffodils, making her eyes’ widen involuntarily and she softly squealed. “ Oh, ‘ow pretty! Vat are zose flower?” The flowers were certainly outstanding - pink, ruffled up cups that were surrounded with white petals, while their centers was painted gentle yellow. Kiritsugu’s lips quirked into a small, sad smile. “ Daffodils. I was told they are called Pink Wonder. I hoped you would enjoy them.” The girl’s startled blush made him shuffle with discomfort.

Fleur, on the other hand, was amazed. Not that she didn’t get many flowers - indeed, she had received may bouquets, many of them more extravagant and rich both in flowers and meanings than this humble little bouquet that was held together only with a simple lightly pink silk ribbon that contrasted gently with the greenery of leaves. No magic to enhance the flowers’ beauty or charms to attract her attention to the person that gifted the flowers to her, just a simple, almost understated bunch of flowers, just picked up and bound together.

She smiled. This…Emiya… was an interesting person. “ _Oui,_ I like zem. Very much.” She nodded at the scruffy youth and somehow, he looked endearing in that scruffiness as she stepped aside. _“Entrez!”_

Kiritsugu nodded in thanks and then stepped in. Stoically ignoring the muffled squeals and whispers behind the numerous doors. “How was your day?” he asked, watching Fleur as she closed the door. The carriage reminisced of a house in the inside, what with the long corridor - Kiritsugu was sure the corridor was very much longer than the actual width of a carriage, but he pushed that thought somewhere back in his mind, not that it stopped him from memorizing the layout they were currently going through.

The walnut wood was richly glinting in the evening light as she led him to her quarters. _“Bien, Merci.“_ She shrugged elegantly. “Not’in’ really intertainin’, but I surviv’.” Her pink lips twisted in a moue. “I am startin’ to zink dat zee _Anglais_ are barbaric, but tzat is apparently nothin’ new. I didn’t have high ‘opes for the Yule Ball, and I was right not to. Zat… Davies… “ She scrunched her nose prettily. _“Un idiot._ But enough of dat. I didn’t invite you to talk about dat... boy.” Blue eyes, blue as robin’s eggs looked at him as she entered the parlor and sat on the settee, nodding at him to choose where he would sit for the time being.

The parlor was also made in wood, almost reminiscing to a boat cabin, with wine red plushy chairs and a single settee around the small oval table, made from walnut and cherry tree, both kinds of the woods painstakingly carved and put together into a complicated Celtic knot and then polished to a high shine. On the floor, there was a sinfully soft and fluffy beige carpet, while the walls were being decorated with pictures of woods and countryside. It was a fairly simple room, despite the rich furniture that was placed within it. Form a big window on Kiritsugu’s left side - he had chosen to side opposite the quarter-Veela, much to her quiet disgruntlement, came the soft evening light that highlighted Fleur’s hair gently, making her seem glow like a faerie.

Fleur placed the flowers into white and blue china vase that vanished, and reappeared a moment later on the table. “Thanks for the flowers, again.” She smiled at him once again. “Wat would you like to drink?”

Kiritsugu inclined his head. “Coffee, if you have it.” He grimaced. “Since we came here, we are in a terrible shortage of that particular drink.” His disgruntled face made Fleur chuckle. “Ah, yes, zat I can understand. Terrible Englishmen, what is it with deir thé, non?” Kiritsugu groaned. “Like you wouldn’t believe.” He sighed in relief as the coffee set along with a small saucer of biscuits appeared on the table. Elegantly, Fleur poured both of them their respective cups. “Milk? Sugar?” She asked, still smiling with amusement at Kiritsugu’s plight. The assassin shook his head. “Not needed. Thank you anyway. “He seized his cup and inhaled the aroma, and Fleur couldn’t find in herself to be offended at him for not paying the attention to her as he slowly inhaled the aroma of the coffee in his lungs. She blushed a startled blush - the man looked almost erotic, and with nothing but a cup of coffee! Then, those thin lips opened, and Emiya took a sip, his eyes opening to a half-mast likening him to a blissed-out feline on its favorite sunspot. A gulp down and Fleur had to fight not to fidget on the spot. This - this male was almost too much!

“Divine…” He proclaimed, his voice hushed with wonder. “May I bother you for the name of the maker of this coffee?” Taken aback, Fleur emitted a tiny giggle. “Well, it eez one of my cousins zat produce’ it.” She took a sip on her own. “She will be delight’ to hear of your comment.” Emiya nodded. “Yes.” He took another sip, looking almost indecent in his enjoyment of the bitter drink. “But I suppose you didn’t really invite me here for that. “ Dark eyes looked into robin egg blue orbs seriously. Fleur placed her cup back on the plate and picked up a biscuit. White teeth nibbled on the sweets followed by the pink tongue licking away the residue sweetness on the smooth lips. “I simply want’ to thank you for rescuin’ my sister. Gabrielle eez our little treasure.” She looked at him seriously. “And because you sav’ her, she owes you a Life Debt. ’owever, because she eez too young, zee responsibility of fulfillin’ dze Life Debt fell on me. Wat do you want ov me to do?” She was sitting on the settee primly, her body tense in the anticipation of his answer.

Kiritsugu blinked. He didn’t show how startled he was - not really, both because he had his poker face on, and besides, he was still too blissed-out from his coffee intake. “I just did what any decent person in my place would have done.” He murmured. “Besides, she was too similar to Ilya.” He smiled a small smile. A small, sad one. “At first, I had though they somehow managed to get her here to act as my hostage.”

“… Oh.” Fleur breathed. “Your little sister?” She inclined her head sympathetically. Kiritsugu didn’t answer, but took a sip of his coffee. “Is she…” Fleur asked, her eyes large “Is she dead?” Dark eyes opened as Kiritsugu looked at her. “I don’t know.” He answered her bluntly, but his heart constricted at the memory of his cheerful daughter. “The project we had been summoned in the middle of – it was to be my last mission before being allowed to reunite with her. I can only pray she is safe right now.” The quarter-Veela winced. _“Je suis désolée_. I didn’t know.“ She whispered. Kiritsugu shook his head stiffly. “You couldn’t have known. It’s the fault of the ones that summoned us, not yours.” He eyed the empty cup mournfully before placing it back to its plate.

“But I still have to fulfill the Life Debt. Whatever you wish is, you can have it.” Fleur quickly derailed the talk back to the source. Kiritsugu tilted his head. He was tempted - so very tempted – to ask for a lifetime of the precious that was coffee.

“I do have something you can help me with…” he murmured softly. Biting her lip, Fleur nodded.

She eyed the coffee carafe.

She was playing dangerous enough game as it was.

* * *

Kotomine Kirei was not a patient man. Outside, he was a definition of patience, but he really was not, what with the amount of his almost-masteries under his belt and his almost unnoticeable twitching of his fingers when he was sitting by the linden tree as to wait on one particularly late assassin. If he had been less restrained, he would have already busted into the carriage, the propriety be damned. However, Kirei hadn’t come as far as he had without fair bit of patience and having an iron hold on his impulses.

But now, his patience was stretched to its limits, and slowly bleeding into anger. It was already nine in the evening, and Kiritsugu still hadn’t come out of the carriage. Anything could have happened. He could be poisoned, tricked, deceived, and used for the whims of the beautiful girl that was his fellow competitor in the Triwizard Tournament. Kirei, even if he didn’t have any interest in relationships wasn’t blind - he had seen how the quarter-Veela looked at Kiritsugu. And with Kiritsugu being a Magus Killer - if she managed to get him under her thrall somehow, it would spell disaster for her opponents, aside from Kirei.

Not that Kirei cared about his opponents - he didn’t really bother whether they were dead or alive, and even that last Task was done without casualties only because of Kiritsugu pressuring him into it. And then, he felt it.

His head jerked up, zeroing onto the carriage with a frightening intensity as the feeling within his gut fell into an uncomfortably deep pit. It was like something was squeezing his innards, making the balance he had been acquaintance with for the most of his life teeter precariously over some until-then unknown edge.

Without bothering to stop, he jerked forward, speeding toward the carriage.

Something was wrong… very, very _wrong._

* * *

Meanwhile, Kiritsugu wasn’t feeling good. The room around him swayed woozily, his brain was fuzzy and he was uncomfortably lethargic. Blearily, he tried to glare at the girl. “What did you do to me?” He managed to choke out, as he tried to reach for his gun. The effects had snuck on him so gradually he almost didn’t manage to notice, dismissing the wooziness of his body as him being tired and just plain unused to the caffeine intake. Which, in retrospect, should have been his first clue that something was wrong.

The fair-haired girl tilted her head, blue eyes looking at him with calculating glint in their depths. _“En amour comme à la guerre, tous les coups sont permis.”_ She hummed as her left hand reached to the button at her throat. “And I will ‘ave you, _Monsieur.”_ She licked her lips and Kiritsugu felt something nudge against his consciousness. He had disregarded it at first, classifying the feeling nothing more as an annoyance, but now, it was more persistent, louder and somehow, she looked prettier than all the girls he had ever seen –

Shaking his head forcefully, he tried to dislodge the unnatural feeling. _‘This isn’t true!’_ Dark eyes looked at the disrobing girl with horrified fascination. “No, you don’t – “

Fleur hummed as she stood up, letting the simple white shirt fell off her shoulders to her elbows as she exposed to the male a generous part of her cleavage and bra. No, she didn’t have to. But it was the only way. Emiya was too strong for her to entice him with her allure - she had tried and failed multiple times. For a Veela, this was an ultimate dream as well as an ultimate insult, and now when she had this unattached, healthy male in front of her, she had to do everything to have him in her possession.

Her grandmother, Jacqueline Marie Sauveterre had told little Fleur her story. In her youth, Jacqueline had been known as one of the most beautiful full-blooded Veelas, and now she was the matriarch for the South France’s enclave and _de facto_ shadow leader of the French politics. Jacqueline was a woman of great cunning and ambitions and by using her attributes, both of beauty and brain, she managed to snag one Martial Olivier d’Artagnan as her spouse. Martial had hailed from the Ancient and Noble House of d’Artagnan, with his most famous forefather, Charles Ogier de Batz de Castelmore d’Artagnan, who was the captain of the Royal Guard in his time, but what was less known, he was one of the king’s most trusted advisors. Martial was known as a superb duelist and he was also one of the French heroes in the second World War. But almost more than his heroics on the battlefield, the silver-eyed man was known for his stubbornness. His nickname, Headstrong Martial, wasn’t given to him for nothing. So it was a great surprise that such a prideful man had deigned to wed Jacqueline. In the circles of _le beau monde_ their wedding was both theme for romantic daydreams of young girls and scandalous whispers among nobility. Many had thought that Martial was marrying below his state - and rightfully so, because Jacqueline was just a ‘lowly’ Veela, but on the other hand, their story was what the legends were made of – strong, indomitable hero and beautiful heroine against the world and the expectations of their societies. They had a single daughter, Fleur’s mother, Apolline Rose, who had her father’s unique silver eyes and her mother’s beauty, which was inherited by her daughter Fleur Delacour.

But there was a secret... That child, Apolline Rose, wasn’t begotten out of love.

Jacqueline Marie was a crafty woman that didn’t count on lucky chances to come to her. Instead, she made her lucky chances… just like Fleur would.

No matter the propaganda that Veelas were searching for their one true love, the cold, hard truth was, that this particular species were like magic-wielding Amazonians - they suffered men because they didn’t have any other choice, but in turn, they searched for the best, strongest, cleverest magic-wielding specimen of male half of human race and bound to them irrevocably via their feminine wiles and magic, one way or another. If on the outside, men were the ones to command their little Veela-made families, the true head of the family was the Veela the unlucky bastard had made the family with. There was a reason there were no male successors in Veela families.

And now, it was Fleur’s turn to subvert the male in front of her to her wily charms.

It would be no hard effort on her part, Fleur decided as she looked over the panting, sweating male in front of her critically. From what she had seen in the Second Task, he wasn’t flabby - on the contrary, his body was corded with wiry, slender muscles that made his body seem a little bit skinny, but nothing that couldn’t be repaired via good food and a few nutrient potions.

“I would say I am sorry, but I really am not.” She murmured, her eyes hooded as she raised herself from settee and delicately stepped toward her prey. “It’s just how the things are.” She gave the male in front of her small, distorted smile. Of course, Papa won’t be pleased, but Maman and Grand-mère would understand.

Because it was just the way the things were.

She already felt her core heating in anticipation of what was to come. She just had to gather her guts and get on with it. Closing her eyes, she momentarily lowered her head. She just prayed that this male she intended to bind to herself would be reasonable enough when all of it would be over and done with.

Because even if she had drugged him with a specially made elixir for such purposes, Emiya’s will was still frighteningly strong and it made her both proud and apprehensive that she managed to snag such a strong-willed man as her bond-mate.

She unbuttoned her shirt and loosened the skirt, letting it fall at her feet, leaving her only in her royal blue silk and lace undergarments, white shirt and blue high heels. Slowly, almost meditatively, she reached behind her head and with a single flick, undid the bun her hair was held in, leaving only two small braids framing her face, making her seem both fragile and strong.

Kiritsugu closed his eyes. The feeling was now louder than ever, and he almost yielded to it - Fleur wasn’t a bad sight to look at - in fact, she was one of the most exquisite females he had laid his eyes on, aside from his beloved Iri, but nobody could compare to Iri – dark brown eyes flashed in his mind, almost startling him out of his trance.

His stomach tightened, and he had to swallow the sickness that was churning in his gut. He didn’t want that. He never wanted it like this, and –

The unearthly creature stepped toward him and subconsciously, Kiritsugu cringed away as he fervently wished that this was just some kind of a nightmarishly fervid dream –

He snarled as her smooth hand touched his right cheek, sliding against his chin as if examining him like he was just a cattle she wished to purchase. The touch was a brand, hot, smooth and unbearably, disgustingly seductive.

“Don’t you fucking – “He gasped as he choked back the bile of revulsion.

“Touch you?” She whispered, her breath sliding against his lips as he smelled the scent of lilies from her hair. “You don’t have any word or say in what I can and can’t do, Monsieur Emiya. Maybe... some other time.”

She lowered her head, intent on kissing her prey for the first time, those thin, snarling, gasping lips were so intriguing, so lovely, as she straddled the man, feeling the heat of his body seeping into her own, making her want him even more - and she yelped as a strong hand roughly grabbed her hair and flung her away from her prey.

“Last time I checked both parties have to consent to the intercourse, Veela.” That cold, emotionless voice had Kiritsugu snapping his eyes open with shock.

 _‘Kirei!’_ His dulled-out mind shouted at him.

Dammit, he never thought he would be so happy to see that shitty priest…

However, his body had been already overtaxed, and with that last shock in the series of shocks, one Emiya Kiritsugu slipped into blessed unconsciousness.

Fleur snarled. She wasn’t happy that she was interrupted from claiming her mate, and even less so that the intruder managed to snuck into her private rooms with such an ease.

 _“You!”_ She growled out. “’Ow did you come ’ere?”

Dull brown eyes narrowed at her, and somewhere within her, Fleur’s instincts screamed at her to be wary of this one. “Miss Pelletier was kind enough to point me out where you resided.” The priest replied, his usually dull voice now unusually sharp. “And correct me if I am wrong, but this didn’t really look like customary repayment for a Life Debt.”

“Dis is none of your concern!” Fleur snarled out as she lost her hold on her primary form, her voice warbling out with the undertone of shrieks and warbles as her hands changed into claws that held balls of fire while her face morphed into a vulture’s visage as the wings the color of her hair ripped through her shirt, bristling threateningly at the intruder.

“It is my concern when you are trying to claim something that was not yours to begin with!” Kirei barked back sharply, his usually calm heart thudding in his chest as he prepared to throw the Black Keys at a moment’s notice.

The quarter-bird laughed. “’E is not mated. Therefore, ‘e eez eligible. ‘E came ‘ere on ‘is own free will. ‘Ow is dat not consent? Besides, the one that ‘as a Life Debt decides ‘ow to repay it.“ Deliberately, the half-bird, quarter-woman stepped forward, her wings rustling restlessly behind her back. “’E eez to be my mate, so back off!”

“Not while he is bound to me, he isn’t.” Kirei retorted, making the Veela shriek with rage, the sound reverberating through the room and making him cringe a little at the unpleasant sound.

And then she – it – attacked, forcing Kirei to block the claws via the reinforced Black Keys and stopping it flat for a moment. The key’s steely surface became unbearably hot from holding back the claws that cradled pure fire, making Kirei boot the creature’s stomach to gain some space to defend himself in process - and he didn’t waste his chance. Seamlessly, he both discarded the hilts of the used Black Keys and fished out two new pairs that ignited a terrifying blue color as they flashed into existence almost in the same moment as their tips pierced the creature’s shoulders, making it wail with pain as Kirei channeled his own _prana_ through it.

Kirei didn’t often use his own specialty, but when he did, the fight was practically one-sided.

The Veela backed away, still wailing and shrieking, its wings flapping uselessly for a beat or two before shrinking back into the now-humanized girl that crumbled on the floor in wails of agony. The claws morphed back into smooth hands, flames sputtering out as she tried - and failed to lift her hands to get the twin pairs of Black Keys out of her shoulders, blue eyes wide with pain and shock. She looked so pitiful, so naïve - but Kirei didn’t care.

He stepped toward the assassin’s unconscious body. Gently, he placed a hand on Kiritsugu’s forehead. A moment later, he stiffened. “You drugged him.”

The girl winced at the accusation. _“Oui. Mais oui, il - il est mon élu.”_ The girl sobbed out with pain, her arms dangling uselessly at her body.

“You could’ve killed him!” Kirei seethed at her, making her flinch. “Where do you have the antidote?”

“T - There’s no antidote.” Fleur’s eyes were big and half-glazed with pain as the priest uncharacteristically swore under his breath.

**_BANG!_ **

Kirei turned to the door that slammed open, admitting in the Headmistress, clad in a silky black and violet robe, barely restraining himself in time not to skewer her.

“Wat happen – !” The Headmistress was cut in mid bellow as she saw Fleur’s form _“Mon Dieu!_ Fleur! _Que c’est-il passé ?_ Did that _bâtard_ done anything -“ She quickly hurried to Fleur and reached for the hilts to draw the blades out.

“Don’t.” Kirei stopped her. The half-giantess whirled around, ready, willing and able to wail on him. “You! What have you done to my precious Fleur!” She barked at the priest, the red sparks out of her wand a mute witness to her fury.

“She had poisoned my partner and attempted to force herself on him. Correct me if I am wrong, Headmistress, but rape is not something preventable with tickling hexes.” Kirei snapped back, equally as intense. “Additionally, Kiritsugu’s body doesn’t react well with specific potions and magic and this Veela here had used one that is right now killing him!”

The Headmistress gasped, her hand covering her mouth in horror. “Oh, mon Dieu. Can anything be done to – “

“There’s no antidote. If the drug she had forced on him has such an adverse effect, then the antidote, even if you had it, would only worsen his state.” Kirei told the pair bluntly, making them pale with realization as he strode to Fleur and briskly pulled out the blades, making the girl wince with pain.

“Then - then he’ll die?” Fleur asked, her voice small as she was pulled to her Headmistress’ massive bosom.

Kirei ignored her. Instead, he strode toward the assassin’s motionless body and took it in his arms. “I don’t know. However, you better pray that he survives.”

 _‘- else I am coming after you.’_ The unsaid threat was heard and understood by both women, making the larger of them nod while clutching the Veela to her chest.

He looked at the trembling pair, then to the opened window. Taking a running start, he jumped through it, shocking both of the females, who then rushed to the window as to look where he had landed. It was a fairly high place to jump from, and any normal human would have broken his legs upon the landing on the ground.

But they saw nothing.

“Fleur, _mais qu’est-ce qui t’as pris?”_ The Headmistress’ serious voice made the Veela flinch. The upcoming conversation wouldn’t be pleasant.

* * *

Meanwhile, Kirei ran toward the forest with his precious burden in a tow. Logically, he knew that going for Hogwarts would be a better decision, but he couldn’t be bothered with exposing Kiritsugu’s flaws to the wizards so late in the game, and besides, wizards didn’t have anything to heal Kiritsugu.

Instead of that, he instinctively went for the forest, both because at this time of time night nobody would be foolish enough to traipse around and because there would be no interference with his own abilities.

Breathing harshly, he arrived at the small glade that was one of Kiritsugu’s usual haunts. Crouching, he gently let the body slide from his hold on the mossy floor. They were lucky that it was a full moon that night.

Ruthlessly, he tore apart the assassin’s shirt and then placed his hands on his chest. The skin beneath his fingers was clammy and cold, making his gut fell with the unpleasant surprise. But there was no time to bemoan the situation. Affording one last glance at Kiritsugu’s clammy features, Kirei closed his eyes, and concentrated on the flow of _prana_ from himself into the assassin, honing his attention to the razor sharpness.

He couldn’t afford to lose.

Not now.

_Not him._

_Never him._

The miasma in his mind’s eye was sickly black and violet, enshrouding Kiritsugu’s own sterling grey circuits in its poisonous embrace. If Kirei were a lesser man, he would have sworn a curse at the sight - it was disgusting, how the decay was trying to eat into the assassin’s very essence, to attempt to poison him and to Kirei’s dismay, succeeding, at a frighteningly quick rate.

No. This was not allowed to happen. Steeling his resolve, Kirei sent his own black and electric blue energy to combat the loathsome miasma. The first touch was - Kirei grimaced. He didn’t dislike many things in his life, as discordant as he was, but this - this was almost too much, even for him.

_‘No. ‘_

_‘Mine. ‘_

_‘You can’t have him!’_

With that ferocious thought in mind, he determinedly wadded – via his own essence - in the middle of the miasma that encroached on Kiritsugu’s very being.

The fight was long and sick - he had seen the depraved acts the miasma was showing to Kiritsugu, with that Veela girl, how it enhanced her beauty and other attributes, again, and again and again, showing him the perfect future, if only Kiritsugu would just give in - his children, a mix of his own features and the Veela’s ones, that ‘happily ever after’ life, with the Veela girl as his wife and him happily helping her along as a husband, as man, as a toy – the last one made Kirei grit his teeth in a mounting fury –

-if there was anyone who wanted to be with Kiritsugu, deserved to be with him, to challenge him, to own him – it was Kirei and Kirei alone!

Determinedly, he slashed against another tentacle, and almost got the shock of his life when he saw/felt/heard/smelled/tasted Kiritsugu. This small, little spark of light, almost buried beneath the piles of miasma, but still burning, even if barely, but burning bravely, a tiny shield that kept Kiritsugu’s consciousness, his very being, safe from being forcibly bonded to the Veela.

It was… _indescribable._ Everything he had known Kiritsugu to be, and even more. This tiny spark, he ensconced it protectively within himself as he fought against the sickly miasma, making it flare out tentatively, hopefully, almost disbelieving that someone had even _bothered_ to save it.

And that made Kirei angry. Why wouldn’t anyone bother to save Kiritsugu? Kiritsugu was good, better than Kirei ever had been, was or would be, even if he was a killer and made mistakes -

 _‘Why?’_ Kiritsugu’s voice asked.

 _‘Why not?’_ Kirei answered to the assassin wordlessly.

 _‘I will still kill you.’_ Kiritsugu volleyed back, and Kirei could almost see that defiant, defensive spark in those dark eyes. Almost… as if the man was expecting to be disappointed anytime now.

 _‘Don’t care.’_ Kirei sent back. _‘Maybe **I** will kill you.’_

An uncomfortable silence.

And then, a miracle happened.

A giggle. Kirei blinked, unsure if he heard it right. And then, this small, tiny giggle grew into chuckles, and then into laughter. A laughter that was happy, carefree and relieved.

A laughter Kirei himself had caused.

Suddenly, that small spark wasn’t a small spark anymore, but Kirei was standing in front of Kiritsugu - Kiritsugu as he had been when there was still a Grail War - same attire, same scruffy appearance, but with one great change - he was laughing. And for once, he was smiling at Kirei. Kirei felt his eyes widen and the warmth flooding his cheeks - his heart was warm too, beating a little too hard as Kiritsugu offered him a hand to shake.

Hesitantly, as if thinking that was just one more dream, Kirei reached for his hand, and then, he felt the warmth, callouses on it and that steady grip.

 _‘Hell. You drive a mean bargain, Kirei.‘_ The assassin’s voice was warm, almost amused. No, it was definitely amused. _‘Shall we, then?’_

Mutely, Kirei nodded, and then, there was a ribbon of his own black and electric blue, now mixed with a sterling gray, encompassing first their hands, as if hand fasting them, and then, the ribbon glowed, until it was so bright he couldn’t look at it anymore, and then, in a flash, he was once again in a small moon-lit glade, the bulbous planet a lonely witness to their newfound alliance.

* * *

Inhaling the forest air, mixed with the well-known scent of a certain priest, Kiritsugu opened his eyes. He was more exhausted than he had ever been, but at the same time, he was at peace with himself. This was a… rush. He shivered - his chest was bare still and it was cold outside. But behind him, there was a solid wall of warmth, and he was half-laying, half-sitting between Kirei’s legs, with the priest’s back was being pressed against the tree trunk. He didn’t know how they came to be in this position, but at the moment, he didn’t care.

His mind was filled with that black and ice blue energy, like void and freezing, so possessive of his being, and yet so careful of him, Shivering, he still felt the man’s _prana_ crackling against his own circuits, thawing and re-freezing as if in some kind of a dance. It was an interesting contrast - and he felt his own threads spinning between them, like fragile, poisonous spider threads.

He didn’t think that Kirei thought so much of him - sure, he did see some of the scenes when Kirei had been thinking about him, but nothing like that blazing, chilling possessiveness that drove away the cloying, sickly-sweet after-taste of a potion he had unknowingly drank down while he consummated that first cup of coffee. Grimacing, he soundlessly berated himself for is oversight. _‘Stupid! Stupid, stupid, **stupid!** How could I forgot - the first rule is to trust no one -!’_ If it hadn’t been for Kirei’s stupid over-possessiveness, one Magus Killer could’ve croaked it this gentle night. No fanfare needed, and wouldn’t that be ironic, felled by an overly amorous female creature? He could’ve became a laughingstock among his peers. _‘Emiya Kiritsugu, infamous and undefeatable Magus Killer, killed by a simple cup of coffee.’_ Yeah, that sounded about right.

And now, he was stuck with a priest. He couldn’t help but smile goofily at the thought. And oh yeah, some sleep couldn’t be amiss.

With that last thought in mind, Kiritsugu let go of the consciousness and drifted into lands of darkness.

* * *

He was stuck with a priest. He couldn’t help but want to scream hysterically and paddle to the edge of the world and far, far away from the insanely possessive berk of a Kotomine as fast as he could.

The morning was still early, the barely-visible glint of a sky a dull gray color in the sliver of the window he could see from his vantage point of being in Kirei’s bed.

Kiritsugu grimaced. Why, why, oh why it had to be him? Kirei could’ve been shackled with anyone - that loud Waver kid, or even better, that El Melloi bastard. And if nothing else, Tohsaka Tokiomi would undoubtedly be a better choice than him. So why, why, why had it been him who had to be dragged into that clusterfuck again!?

 _‘I just had to be the one to fight him at the end, didn’t I?’_ Groaning, Kiritsugu placed his palm across his eyes, cursing the sunlight creeping in the room, his agreement with Einzberns, and his very own stubbornness to see the perfect world coming to fruition. As much as he wanted to think it was just a nightmare, the sad reality was that right now, he was being treated as a human-sized teddy bear with the priest spooning him rather possessively. Briefly, he wondered how he came to be in their room again, as the last thing he remembered was them being outside in that little glade, with moon and stars hanging above them, but then decided it was not worth his sanity - or whatever of it he had left within his skull – to daringly pursue that particular answer.

It was wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong, and so wrong on so many levels Kiritsugu couldn’t even describe the wrongness of it.

 _Ilya. Iri._ His darling girls. How would he explain to them that he had essentially – even if only spiritually - cheated on Ilya’s mommy with that - that devil of a priest?

Involuntarily, his body stiffened as he felt the priest snuggle closer against him. Swallowing a bile, he closed his eyes - but immediately after, he opened them again. That dark blackness reminded him of Kirei’s _prana_ and fuck, would he lack the sleep now too?

The feeling of belonging, hanging like gentle silk spider threads between them seemed now more of a memory, a mocking phantasm that taunted and goaded him into briefly baring his teeth into helpless snarl before he began to move, quietly scrabbling away from the death-hug he was currently in.

Being one of Triwizard competitors or not, that Delacour girl was definitely on his hit list now. And as for Kirei…Kiritsugu was at a loss what to do with him, but he was sure he wouldn’t be short of ideas for long – after all, he could always make him sing a permanent soprano. Dark eyes glanced at his trusty bowie knife that laid innocently on his side of the bed.

First cigarettes, now coffee. There was no end of the things that shitty priest was depriving him of, wasn’t it? What was next, his virginity?

Cringing mentally at the thought, Kiritsugu tried to inch away from his companion, as carefully as he could. Movement after movement, inch after painstaking inch and... ah-hah! _Freedom!_

He could almost feel the sweet, sweet touch of the cold floor, the nipping of the early morning air against the goose bumps of his skin –

 _“Yipe!”_ His unmanly yelp was muffled as he had been unceremoniously tugged back into the bed, so hard that he thunked solidly against the mass of the muscle that was Kirei’s body.

Now, Kiritsugu had had it. With a roar, he grabbed the nearest pillow and bashed it against the priest’s deceptively sleeping face.

* * *

Kirei had had a good night’s sleep, and he was dozing away innocently, when there was a distant scream of an unmitigated fury and a moment later, something heavy crashed against his face with a considerable force, momentarily choking him and making him flail for a moment.

His little dream of seeing a particular smile on one particular’s person’s face was cruelly thwacked away by the owner of the self-same face, which was now glaring at him with an infuriated snarl while he thwacked Kirei’s face with a heavy pillow.

“You bastard! Bastard, bastard, _bastard!_ What have you done to me, you shitty priest!” The rescuee roared at the still dazed priest, his black hair disheveled even more, if that was possible, bare chest heaving with the exertion of the furious wielding of his current choice of a weapon against him. His dark gray boxers sat dangerously low on his hips, but right now, that didn’t matter, as the assassin was bravely straddling Kirei’s waist as he was venting his fury onto the priest’s person.

Clumsily, Kirei tried to catch the pillow, but it seemed that Kiritsugu had managed to activated Double Accel somehow and as such, he could only try to shield his face.

“Hey! Cut it ou –! “ Kirei had to dodge an especially ferocious whack, as he failed to catch the assassin’s wrist with one hand while and other shielded his face. _“Temeee!”_ Kiritsugu’s growl reverberated through the room like he was being a particularly enraged lion. “How dare you to act so innocent! Haven’t I told you I am already married - and why the fuck do I have to play your personal teddy bear, huh!?” He bounced on the priest’s stomach, making the man underneath him exhale a startled breath with the force of his bounce.

Kirei had patience, but he never claimed to be a saint. And the image Kiritsugu had involuntarily caused with his bounce was not saintly by any stretch of imagination. “It’s too early for you to be angry at whatever wrongdoing your mind has constructed I had done now.” He managed to get out as he finally caught one of the Magus Killer’s slender wrists in his hands. Quickly, he rolled them around, as for him to be on top and Kiritsugu pressed between the mattress and his body. “Now. _Go. To. Sleep.”_ Kirei growled out his own growl at his stubborn partner, eliciting a startled ‘oof!’ out of his prey. Blazing black eyes glared at him, for once full of life and anger, dangerous obsidians of wrath Kirei was sure to be a receptacle when they would spar again.

“You shitty _teme._ Let me go!” Kiritsugu hissed at him, but Kirei was immovable. Kiritsugu’s chest heaved with the exertion, and his face had a faint sheen of sweat that made him look ethereal and Kirei had to keep himself not to lick his lips at the delicious sight. Kiritsugu’s cold exterior masked his true, fiery nature extremely well, and even if this pillow-fest was only a small ember of it, Kirei couldn’t help but let his lips twitch in a glint of a smile when he tucked his head onto the youth’s chest and both felt and heard his exasperated growl of impotent fury.

Emiya Kiritsugu was his, even if the man didn’t consciously accept it yet. And that was that.

* * *

** _/To Be Continued/_ **

**_**Note: PSALM 129 (130 in some versions): DE PROFUNDIS (English) —_ **   
_to be said while processing to the refectory._

_Out of the depths I have cried to Thee, O Lord: * Lord, hear my voice._   
_Let Thy ears be attentive * to the voice of my supplication._   
_If Thou, O Lord, wilt mark iniquities: * Lord, who shall stand it?_   
_For with Thee there is merciful forgiveness: * and by reason of thy law, I have waited for Thee, O Lord._   
_My soul hath relied on His word, * my soul hath hoped in the Lord._   
_From the morning watch even until night, * let Israel hope in the Lord._   
_Because with the Lord there is mercy: and with him plentiful redemption._   
_And he shall redeem Israel * from all his iniquities._   
_Glory be to the Father and to the Son, * and to the Holy Spirit._   
_As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, * world without end. Amen._

This is direct translation of Latin version to its English counterpart.  I chose it because  it  basically reflects Kirei and his searching  for faith and answers  in his earlier years, before he had been corrupted by  the Grail’s  influence.

 


	8. Doesn't matter if it's not our day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter; nor do I own Fate/Zero. Not their characters starring therein. But I do own this little story. 
> 
> Shout Out: Y’all will be very, very grateful bunch who should worship Luna13’s feet for delivering this one scarily fast. I know I am. And in awe of her frenchpertise. And surprise, surprise, this is the bona fide second to last chapter. Yeah, I could’ve waited to get the whole thing out in one piece, but dear me, cliffhangers are such an interesting thing to have, here you go. I could be sorry, but I can’t muster the sincerity for being so. Good news - got the beta for both Crimson Sagittarius and Among The Hawks And Doves, so those two will be revved up again in the near future. 
> 
> Warnings: AU-verse, and the mandatory Kirei/Kiritsugu shenanigans, meaning this is slash. You will just have to find everything else out for yourselves.

* * *

The day before the Third Task was filled with furor and excitement. Kiritsugu didn’t want to have anything with it, and Kirei simply didn’t bother. It was also a Family Day for the Triwizard Champions, and with their family being unavailable for the event they wouldn’t bother to even go to the Great Hall. They intended to use that time to find the Goblet of Fire – as per regulations it was still held in Hogwarts, as it had been a tradition to have the Goblet kept within any school that currently hosted the Tournament. Kirei was curious of the contraption and Kiritsugu wary, but both of them agreed that it had to be destroyed.

This mockery of Lesser Grail was just too dangerous to leave to those wand-waving fools. It was bad enough that they had been drafted into the Tournament without their consent - not that the true Grail was any better – but even if the Grail was used for supposedly harmless competition, unable to summon even the weakest of Heroes from the Throne, that didn’t mean it couldn’t be used for any nefarious means, and you know what they say - the stupidest ones usually have the grandest luck, and it would be just the foolish wand-wavers’ luck to somehow make the useless trinket into something that would herald the next apocalypse. It had been strange enough that most of the champions had died in unusual circumstances, even if the wand-wavers had been lack as usual with the safety precautions.

But of course, their plans had to be derailed. A nervous house-elf, who seemed to want to be anywhere but at her current place, told them, with stutters and flinches, that they were expected in the Great Hall for the meet-and-greet of their family.

“But we don’t have a family here.” Kiritsugu murmured to Kirei while they trailed after their unwilling guide. Dark eyes looked at each other as they wordlessly communicated with each other.

_‘Be prepared for anything.’_

_‘Yes.’_

And strange as it was, Kirei felt that he could face anything with the person that was now walking at his side. He was a little bit put out that they didn’t hold their hands anymore, but the occasional contact came with a here-and there bump of their shoulder, so it was just as well. The symptoms Kiritsugu had suffered via their unexpected bonding seemed to abate after a week, much to the Magus Killer’s relief and Kirei’s silent disappointment. The Hogwarts’ rumor mill already got more than its usual load what with the theories and suppositions about their relationship being tossed around. Kiritsugu valiantly kept silent on the subject, twitching only occasionally when Kirei slipped in a remark or two to boost the rumors a little bit more, not that they needed to be boosted, thank you very much.

They finally reached the Great Hall and entered the place. At once, they were besieged by curious glances and murmurs and whispers, making Kiritsugu involuntarily tense his back - Kirei could sympathize, as he knew that Kiritsugu was a loather of crowds while for him, such a mass was a merely massive, excuse the pun, annoyance.

“Welcome.” They were greeted by a pointy-faced, bleached-blonde kid that wore silver and green tie. “My name is Draco Malfoy, Heir of the Noble House of Malfoy. I’ve taken a liberty to supply my own family as your visitors today.” The kid inclined his head in some kind of a bow that was both stiff and awkward, as he obviously wasn’t used to talking to his so-called inferiors like they were his equals, but Kiritsugu gave him point for trying anyway. “If you don’t mind, I would like both of you to follow me to my family.” The kid looked at the duo expectantly.

 _‘By the Root. I didn’t know that the El-Melloi bastard had reproduced.’_ Kiritsugu inwardly grimaced. The kid was just like the younger, gray-eyed copy of the El-Melloi patriarch he had killed back in the fourth Grail War. Younger one, certainly, snooty enough, and a lot more awkward one, seeing as the kid was merely a wand-waver and didn’t have the fangs of his Magus counterpart.

“We thank you for the kindness, Heir Malfoy.” Kirei obviously didn’t suffer from the random mind collapse Kiritsugu was experiencing just then. “We would be honored to know your family.” This was apparently the correct response, if the smug smirk on the kid’s face was of any indication. The crowd in front of them dispersed, leaving the boy to lead them to the pale-haired, obviously aristocratic couple without any trouble.

The woman was tall slender and fragile, but with the cunning gleam deep within her forget-me-not blue eyes. She was clothed in petroleum green velvet robe that flattered her form, without being too revealing about its’ charms. Her hair was styled in a bun, with some strands framing her face attractively, directing the attention to her flawless pale skin and pink lips. She didn’t wear much jewelry - only a teardrop earrings from white diamonds and some small stars made from the same stone twinkling in her hair.

The male at her side was tall and in a reasonably good condition, compared to his peers, Kiritsugu noted critically. He was clad in black and silver robes which offset his hair starkly, as he wore it loose, letting it fall around his shoulders like a pale veil. The man’s face was hard and some would say aristocratic, but as assassin, Kiritsugu could see the traces of arrogance and hidden weariness within those grey eyes. He held the snake-capped cane elegantly, as if he didn’t have any care on the world, but at the same time, ready for anything to come. Yup. Kiritsugu would eat his Contender if this family wasn’t related to that pompous ass of an El Melloi somehow.

“Mother. Father.” Their little guide piped up. “May I introduce you to Emiya Kerry and… “His eyebrows scrunched a little in discomfort “Kotomine Kirei, the Fourth Triwizard Champions?” The El-Melloi double looked at Kirei, and Kiritsugu didn’t like the twist in his guts at the man’s expression. “Pleased to be introduced.” The man murmured his voice low, and somehow impassive. “I am Lucius Malfoy, Lord of the House of Malfoy. At my side, it’s my lovely wife, Lady Narcissa Malfoy.”

“I am honored you deigned to take time to meet us.” Kirei nodded. “We didn’t expect to have anyone coming on this auspicious day.” A pale blonde eyebrow arched at the priest’s admission. “How so? Surely you have a family somewhere… though I do admit that your manner of… arriving may be at fault.”

Kiritsugu bristled, but managed to keep and outward calm at the moment. His fingers itched to take the Contender and blow the man’s brains out for some reason. Kirei shook his head. “It’s no trouble for me, as a priest, I don’t really have a family, as I am bound to my Father of Heaven. “ He replied, making the lady Malfoy’s mouth open in a moue of shock. “Oh, so the rumors were true? Usually, we don’t put too much stock in them, but…” She trailed off meaningfully. “Depends on which ones you mean.” Kiritsugu interrupted smoothly, shifting closer to Kirei and redirecting their attention to his person.

“Of course. And what of you, Mister Emiya?” The El-Melloi long-haired double asked him, chin tilting forward a little in a show of nonchalant superiority. “Surely your family misses you?” Slender fingers played with the intricately made snake head of the cane idly, as if the man had all the time on the world for the assassin’s answer.

“I am unable to reach for them for the moment.” Kiritsugu replied smoothly. “Hopefully after the Tournament ends, I would be more successful in contacting them.” Diplomatic answer, telling something, but not telling anything that would discriminate him. Malfoy’s fingers tightened around the snake’s silver head, the only sign of his dissatisfaction with Kiritsugu’s answer. “Shame. They must be very proud of your achievements.”

“I wouldn’t know, as we were thrown into the Tournament without having a chance to inform them beforehand.” Kiritsugu’s reply was flat as he parried the man’s steel gray gaze with his own dark one. The Malfoy’s gaze darkened. “You could’ve contacted them via owl or Floo.” Narcissa interjected, her soft voice concerned. Kiritsugu had to give it to the lady, she was a good actress. “No can do.” He shook his head, as if irritated, and to his inner surprise, he didn’t have to fake the emotion, while thinking of his inability to reach Ilya. “They live in a fortified castle, and the wards don’t allow those means of communication.” More like that old man Jubstacheit would have intercepted any means of communication, and Kiritsugu was already on a thin ice for not bringing the victory to Einzberns. Him being somehow involved in the wand-wavers’ silly tournament would be the rotten cherry on the top of his failures as of late. While Kiritsugu was a Magus Killer, even he hesitated to go against Einzberns, and that with a good reason.

* * *

Lucius Malfoy didn’t know what to make out of his newest acquaintances. True, the rumors were rife about that oddball pair of Fourth Champions, especially when it had been pointed out that this priest was the true Harry Potter - he was certainly surprised when Draco confirmed that particular rumor - but the pair was… strange. Of course, it pleased him that this Kirei was deferring to him, but on the other side, it felt somewhat unpleasant, like letting the jewel-encrusted scorpion on his hand, and even if it was fascinatingly sparkly, it was just the question of time when the animal would sting his hand. And how strong would its sting be.

He had known little about that new Potter - he was strong, insanely so, as his bout against a nesting dragoness had proven, certainly resourceful. As not many people would have the guts to use a Kelpie of all things to get to the hostages, and least, but not last, his strange knives which he used to exorcize the Hogwarts’ ghosts. Ghosts were usually people that were too invested in the living for some reason to cross to the other side, and usually, if they had magic, and were painted while they still lived, their ‘ghosts’ were transmitted to the paintings upon their deaths, thus reanimating them and lessening the amount of free-wandering ghosts and poltergeists around. Hogwarts’ ghosts were old enough and had taken in enough of magic to successfully defy the rituals that would send them to the other side, no matter how willing they would be to cross to the Otherside. So it was understandably a shock when Kirei had not only wounded Peeves, but exorcised all of the ghosts with minimal fuss involved.

And of course, his mysterious companion. They didn’t really find out much about Emiya Kerry - the youth had temper, strange gun that he was yet to be seen using, and he was mysteriously fast, but aside from that, he seemed to be more of a hindrance to Potter than anything. Strangely, Potter didn’t mind, as his baiting and needling of his companion was more of him getting a reaction out of Emiya than true derision of the man’s skills. However, for Emiya to be involved as his partner in Triwizard Tournament, Lucius was wary to write him off as useless hanger-on. Especially when including the manner the duo had arrived in - in bout of explosion, bloody and with deep wounds, some of unknown origin, and the spell casters who checked the Goblet were all horrified over the amount of energy the chalice had expired while having to drag the duo to Hogwarts – even with Goblet’s amassed energy, the thing was just shy of being fried outright when it bonded them to the contract. And with Ollivander’s ominous words, that the duo should have been the only lawful pair of the competitors by old rules - Lucius didn’t know what exactly had the old man meant with those words, as there had been no mention of them in the old texts, no matter how much his spies had rifled through them - along with them not having and even worse, not needing wands, they were a cause for concern.

Luckily, Draco had taken the initiative and suggested them to visit Hogwarts under pretense of being their honorary family, so Lucius could get a better reading on the duo. Which he would do so anyway, but it was still interesting to see those ants milling and gawping at the illustrious Malfoy family mingling with the strange duo. Both a good publicity and keeping an eye on the potential enemy. Even if that Emiya brat was irritating with evading his answers. Lucius clenched his teeth before relaxing again. “I was very impressed at how you handled the Second Task. Draco told me you managed to tame a Kelpie.”

“Yes, we all are curious on how you did that, especially when you had no wand to begin with.” Draco piped up, his gray eyes shining with anticipation, betraying the fact he was still a little kid at heart. “Can you teach me?”

“Draco Abraxas Malfoy, you will learn no such thing!” Narcissa sharply admonished her progeny, making him sulk and Kiritsugu bark out an amused laughter. He then clapped the youth on his shoulder, causing him to stagger under the unexpected force. “Listen to your mother, it’s not as glorious as you think it is. Why, if it weren’t for us having some kind of rope at hand, I think that we’d both ended as its snack and not talking with your family at all right now.”

Lucius smirked. “ _Some_ kind of rope? Very brave of you, I must say. However, there had to be something more than just ‘some kind of rope’, because if I recall my lessons on the beasts correctly, they could be tamed only via enchanted rope and Placement Charm.“ Kirei narrowed his eyes at Kiritsugu. “You owe me a new necklace.” He muttered to the assassin, who simply smirked at him. “You owe me a pack of cigarettes first.” The assassin retorted, his voice smug. Lucius couldn’t help but think there was more than just those simple words between them. He cleared his throat. “Shall we adjourn to the table?”

Both of the Champions looked at him, and then at each other, making a silent conversation with their eyes, before seemingly coming to decision. “We would be honored to.” Kirei offered, nodding his head briefly. Smirking smugly, Lucius offered to a still fuming Narcissa his arm and began to lead their little group to their assigned table.

* * *

Their little family outing with Malfoys was surprisingly pleasant, even if they did attract their fair share of weird glances, outright glares and suspicious murmurs for their involvement with Dark-oriented Slytherins and rumored supporters of Voldemort. However, for both Kiritsugu and Kirei that was an equivalent of playing with half-grown kittens in comparison with their usual ilk of Magi and more dangerous and eclectic Church’s members. The kid was a wealth of information, and it was kind of cute how hard he tried to emulate his father. Lady Malfoy tried to play her role, however she slipped here and there, what with her semi-doting on her only progeny, and while Lord Malfoy didn’t look very family oriented, Kiritsugu could see plainly that he loved his family dearly, even if he was a stuck up magical double of that Kayneth bastard. His family was his biggest weakness, no matter how much he tried to show that he didn’t to care about them. And the time they spent with them wasn’t such a loss either - Kiritsugu managed to find out that the Goblet was severely damaged and still held in Hogwarts somewhere, though Lucius was tight-lipped of its location. Also, the man’s left arm bothered him for some reason. It wasn’t very obvious, as Lucius was very careful not to rub the affected spot very often, however Kiritsugu lad learned to read the body language and it was a child’s play for him to decode the man’s unconscious twitches and jolts.

Now, all that remained was the evening’s conclusion of this little competition.

* * *

24th June. Officially known as the Third Task of Triwizard Tournament, and its conclusion. Both Kiritsugu and Kirei were led to the well-known tent, though for some reason, the tent was in front of the hedge maze. The maze wall was twice Kirei’s height, meaning it was nigh impossible to just vault over it. Of course, Kiritsugu had heard a couple of Ravenclaw’s Quidditch fanatics bemoan the loss of their beloved pitch, but even he didn’t think it would be _that_ bad.

The tension between the competitors in the tent was now at its highest. Nobody really spoke, not even Cedric, who was usually a chatterbox of the assembled group. Currently, he simply cuddled his girlfriend, who was playing with the tail end of her braided hair. Both of them were clothed in Hufflepuff colors and resembled some kind of giant bees, what with their stripped shirts and black trousers and shoes. On the right side of the chest, the duo had a small Hogwarts’ shield sewn in with a golden thread.

The Durmstrang pair held with the red and black theme - black trousers with brown boots from some sort of hide, and dark red short-sleeved shirts that outlined their physiques. Both of them had their staves along, their movements betraying their familiarity with their chosen melee weapons.

Beauxbatons seemed to go both for elegance and practicality, as their Champions were clad in sky blue shirts with dark violet trousers, their outfits shimmering subtly in the lantern’s light, making them look like ethereal human-sized pixies. Fleur’s hair was twined in French braid with silver thread lining the length of her hair, while Violette went for the more practical braided bun with no threads added.

As opposed to their uniforms, Kiritsugu and Kirei simply didn’t bother. Instead of that, they went for the outfits they arrived in - Kirei was clad in his usual trousers and gakuran, along with shoes, while Kiritsugu wore a suit and his coat. They stuck out like sore thumbs in their long-sleeved garments, and they got their fair share of weird looks from the audience when they had walked to the tent, but they didn’t care.

“Welcome, welcome to the third and last part of the Triwizard Tournament!” The jolly voice of Ludo Bagman shattered the silence obnoxiously, making the participants turn toward the speaker. Bagman was clothed in a confusing mixture of glittery blue, green and gold that he thought it made him look sophisticated, but instead of that, he seemed to be a blob of aforementioned colors. His cheesy grin, however didn’t falter. Behind him, there were Crouch Senior, the Headmasters and four violet-robbed people that carried wooden boxes. The boxes were black with silver and golden linings at the edges.

Dumbledore was clothed in dark blue robes embroidered with rainbow-colored lilies- surprisingly subdued choice, considering his usual wardrobe choices. The old man was smiling slightly at the participants, his eyes twinkling behind his glasses.

“This time, your task will be a little bit different and co-dependable. Until now, you competed more or less each on your own, with some exceptions – “ Blue eyes twinkled at Kirei and Kiritsugu. “However, today you will be the each other’s lifeline - literally.”

Karkaroff grunted. The dour man was clothed in usual black robe, only enriched by the tasteful twists of pale gray fur at its edges. “Cut the talk, Dumbledore, and let’s get it on.” Dark eyes looked at the four box-bearers with disgruntlement. “The crowd is becoming antsy.”

“Ze _Tasque_ eez followin’ - get to the middle of ze Maze, to the Cup. Whoever reach’s it first, wins.” Maxime interrupted, her dark eyes glittering in dim light. She was clad in dark red, almost black robes that were accentuated with silver and turquoise stitching. Her hair was done in an elegant braid she wore around her head like a crown. As she tilted her head, the turquoise earrings in her earlobes glinting merrily. “ _Mais_ , dere vill be one leetle obstacle – like Professor Dumbledore said, you eight vill be bound to each other… literally. “ She motined for the figures to open the boxes.

On the boxes’ red velvet there were silver-glinting manacles, bound together with a similarly colored chain. “Zese manacles vill tie you to each oder. You won’t be able to separate until you, eizzer finish the Task or you give up.” A devious smile flickered across her lips, making the contestants uneasy. “Zo, no tryin’ to get dem ofv, or cuttin’ zem.”

“The only choice you have here is which hand you will have free.” Dumbledore chimed in again. “Choose and then approach the gentlemen in violet to receive your shackles.”

The order made the Champions erupt in a flurry of hisses and hushed comments with each other.

“Which one you do prefer?” Kirei murmured to the assassin. Kiritsugu tilted his head.

As far as he knew, Kirei was ambidextrous, and he too was, to some extension, even if he preferred to have his right hand free for the use of Contender. But… He furrowed his eyebrows. Was that the right choice?

He was limited. His only advantage - if he could call it that - was if his opponent was long-range, which would enable him to use Contender or grenades. Short range, he could use _Accel,_ however it strained his body to an enormous extent, no matter that he housed Avalon which drastically shortened his time of recovery, even with fatal wounds.

Kirei himself was a danger to be reckoned with on a short range, especially with his speed. Long range, he was similarly limited as Kiritsugu, what with him possessing only twenty Black Keys, and if push came to shove, six Command Seals, not counting the one for directly ordering Kiritsugu.

The only unknown factor in the entire equation was the length of chain that would be binding them.

It could be as short as for them having to walk side by side, or just half a step or five steps long. Kiritsugu didn’t expect that they would be allowed a good range, what with the width of maze walls. If they were lucky, they would be stuck with the same length of chain.

And he had to count that they would be fighting all kinds of creatures once they would be in. It would have been ideal if they could’ve dealt with them from the long range, but Kiritsugu wasn’t so optimistic. He didn’t like the choice and the prospects it presented, but this would have to do.

“Right.” Kirei gave him a minute nod and then, they stepped to the violet cloaked form. The Durmstrang pair was already chained together - predictably, Krum was chained by his left hand, while his partner wore manacle on his right.

The Beauxbatons’ pair was still arguing with each other, still undecided and by Fleur’s face, she wasn’t used to not getting her way. The Hogwarts Champions decided to have chained both left hands, making Diggory stand behind Chang, much to her pleased embarrassment. Kiritsugu approached the cloaked man and lifted his right arm to be chained, while Kirei lifted his left. The manacle clicked around his wrist audibly, before the metal melded together, despite of it being cold on the touch. It was almost comforting sensation, the coldness on his wrist. He looked from the manacle to Kirei who likewise inspected the shackle, slender fingers sliding along the place where there was a crack just a moment before. For a moment, it looked like Kirei was kind of inspecting a wedding band –

Dark eyes widening, Kiritsugu hurriedly ducked his head as he tried to banish the image out of his mind and keep his flush under control.

This was just not happening!

Kirei looked at the assassin. Kiritsugu had ducked his head and had his eyes screwed shut for some reason. “Are you alright?” He asked the man, his head tilting downward slightly. Silently, he had to admit that he enjoyed being taller than Kiritsugu - if nothing else, the man had to tilt his head upwards if he wanted to look at his face.

“As much as I can be, with you being my ball and chain.” The Magus Killer groused back at him, his voice still strangely tight for some reason.

 _‘His ball and chain.’_ Belatedly, Kirei felt a bloom of warmth in the pit of his stomach at Kiritsugu’s admission. Because one Emiya Kiritsugu had inadvertently admitted that he was, for all intents and purposes, more or less legally, bound to Kotomine Kirei. It wasn’t really a holy matrimony, but Kirei would take what he could get.

They were startled out of their little world with Bagman clapping loudly and the Beauxbatons’ pair, finally, having decided on how to proceed - apparently Fleur got her way in the end, as she was smiling triumphantly, her left hand free, and Violette glaring at her for having the advantage.

“Gentlemen and ladies, it’s now time to begin!” The rotund man exclaimed joyfully. “As we have only one entrance to the maze, the pair with the highest score in the Second Task, will be the one to enter the first at the sound of cannon. So, in order - Durmstrang, Hogwarts, Potter-Emiya and the last, Beauxbatons. Good luck to all and keep on your toes!” He then bounced out of the tent, with the Headmasters following them more sedately.

“If that is not ominous then I don’t know what else is.” Violette de la Fére grumbled, making Diggory chuckle nervously. “Maybe it won’t be that hard.” He offered, shrugging awkwardly, in a ‘what can you do?’ way.

“Iv I coult bodle yourrr optimizm, ve vouldn’d need Tcheering tcharmz.” Makarov snarked, making the Beauxbatons’ pair giggle and Chang glare at him.

“Are you ready?” Bagman’s voice boomed across the air, making them flinch. The crowd roared.

“This is the moment we all waited for, folks! The one and only Third Task of the fifth Triwizard Tournament!” The roars grew louder. “Now, I say there’s a reason the Hogwarts’ lovely Quidditch pitch was desecrated - I feel your pain, Quidditch lovers, but it was for the … greater entertainment, I shall say, and let me reassure you, after the task will end, the Pitch would be back and as good as new!” After a pause, filled with excited and relieved cheers from the crowd, Bagman continued.

“So, there are the rules: The competitors will be entering the maze in pairs, and whichever pair will come to the Cup first, would be the winner! On their way, they will have to overcome different obstacles - animals, charms, enchantments, and of course, our very own maze itself! But that’s not all, the champions are hampered with an additional burden - they are bound to each other with shackles and chains on their wrists, so it’s literally both of the halves has come to the end, or both of them fail!”

“If you remember the results of the Second Task, the boon the then-winners acquired was that they would be entering the maze first. But just in case you forgot because in excitement, let’s review the standings again - Beauxbatons is sadly on the fourth place, the Emiya-Potter pair stands on third, while our very own Hogwarts placed second and Durmstrang sits on the very top! When the cannon shots, the first to enter the dastardly maze will thus be…Durmstrang’s very own Viktor Krum and Jevgeniy Makarov!” The cheers of the crowds nearly deafened the cannon.

The Durmstrang duo turned around and resolutely marched out of the tent, their spines stiff with determination.

Kiritsugu sighed. He didn’t have any use for theatrics.

“Second pair who will be entering just about now is… Cedric Diggory, valiant Hufflepuff and his lovely girlfriend, Cho Chang!”

The cannon boomed. People cheered again.

“Third place belongs to the black Abraxans in the race, the Potter-Emiyas!”

“Potter-Emiyas? What, does that old codger thinks that we are married?” Kiritsugu growled out, while yanking Kirei along, trying to ignore the taken-aback giggle of two lone females in the tent they hurriedly left behind.

“Ball and chain, Emiya. Ball and chain.” Kirei muttered back. The hedge in front of them was dark green, illuminated by something similar to moon light above their heads - however, the cool light was much stronger than the one from the moon. “Well, at least we won’t be lacking light.” Kiritsugu mumbled. He looked to the stars, squinting his eyes a little. “This way.” He tugged Kirei to the corridor leading to the right.

Kirei blinked. “How - ?”

Dark eyes, looking even darker under the light, looked at him. “The maze may change, the stars do not.” Kiritsugu informed him succinctly. “And I happen to have a very good eyesight.”

 _‘Very good eyesight’_ was an understatement. Kiritsugu was an exceptional marksman - not only because he had honed his abilities, but because of his almost preternatural eyesight. His eyes were so sharp that he could see the brightest stars even at daylight, so this little imitation of moonlight didn’t cause any problems.

Kirei nodded. “Shall we test the limits?” He looked at the chain between them, the links gleaming under the cold light.

Wordlessly, Kiritsugu acquiesced. They lifted their hands and stepped apart - step, two, half –

“As I thought. The width of the corridor.” Kiritsugu murmured as he eyed the space between them calculatingly. He fished the Contender out of his cloak. “Not really an ideal length, but we’ll make do.” Kirei nodded in assent and extracted three Keys, holding them in his grip, prepared to ignite them at any time.

They proceeded to walk, Kirei slightly at the front, and Kiritsugu a little behind. The sounds around them were mute, even if they distantly heard the cheers and boos of the crowd.

The first thing they saw on their way was some kind of golden mist. It sparkled invitingly in the light, seemingly harmless.

Kiritsugu didn’t trust it a whit. It could be anything - potion fumes with an unknown effect, most probably poison, or a hiding ground for a predator. But to advance forward, the only way was to cross the mist somehow. “You got anything to throw in?” He asked his companion.

Kirei nodded. A moment later, one ignited Black Key whistled into the mist and fell on the ground on the other side.

“Not inhabited.” Kirei murmured, with Kiritsugu nodding in agreement. This was their biggest worry. The second one was if the mist was poisonous. Recklessly, Kiritsugu plunged his head into the mist and inhaled, disregarding the alarmed yelp of his companion.

 _‘Hmm… Smells like rose water – ‘_ was his only thought before he was yanked out harshly.

“Don’t you _ever_ do that again!” Kirei hissed at his face, dark eyes blazing. “ What if the mist was a poison!”

“But it wasn’t and it was like rose water – “ Kiritsugu argued feebly. Then, he straightened his spine. “We have to hurry, so we can’t afford to be needlessly cautious. I am fine; you are fine, so let’s go already!” With that said, he yanked the priest forward, and abruptly, they found themselves upside down.

“Yeah, fine.” Kirei replied flatly. “But at least now we know what this does.” They walked through the mist and when they stepped out of it –

_THUD._

On their heads.

“Ow.” Kiritsugu managed to get out.

Both of them had received a nice surprise of gravity reverting back to its usual setting.

Mutely, they picked themselves up, along with picking their respective weapons and Kiritsugu once again checked the position of the stars. “Right corridor.” He said, sorely wanting to rub the new bruise on his head, but resisting the urge.

The corridor was quiet. Almost too quiet. Kirei tensed.

There was a shadow and then –

Kirei abruptly turned to the left and fired the Black Keys at the big shadow that revealed sharp teeth and long, spindly legs.

 _“Holy shit!”_ Kiritsugu cursed as both of them dodged low, while the spider, as big as a car, jerked forward, barely missing their heads while it swiped at them. The beast screeched at them, dark fangs gleaming cruelly in the cool light and then they were moving –

Kirei yanked Kiritsugu against his body and performed a half-roll before the clawed feet slammed an inch away from Kiritsugu’s neck. The beast screeched again, saliva sliding down its sharp fangs, eight beady black eyes glittering maliciously, half-maddened with pain, and then, Kiritsugu took aim and squeezed the trigger –

_BANG!_

The spider jerked back, letting out another almighty screech before seemingly bulging out and exploding outward, showering them in the mix of guts, blood and gore.

They spluttered and heaved for breath - the thing was just too smelly for its own good.

 _“Ugh.”_ Kirei grimaced. “Next time. Leave exterminating of arachnids to me.” He staggered on his knees, plunging his unoccupied arm into the spider’s guts as he fished for the next batch of Black Keys. “Less mess that way.”

“Agreed.” Kiritsugu spat out a mouthful of blood that managed to get into his mouth, along with some slimy substance he really didn’t want to know what it was.

He quickly reloaded the Contender waited for Kirei to finish gathering the Back Keys.

* * *

The maze seemed to be quiet for some time. No strange mists, no creatures, and thankfully, no big-ass spiders.

“It’s too calm.” Kirei commented as they walked. Kiritsugu nodded. “Yeah, it is. Until now, we should have encountered more traps and dangerous animals. It’s like someone _wants_ us to reach the Cup before everyone else.

Kirei’s eyebrows furrowed. “Are you saying that the Tournament is rigged?” He asked _. ‘What about the first two tasks?’_ was his unvoiced question, but the assassin seemed to understand.

Kiritsugu let out a sigh. “Someone went into the trouble to directly summon _you_.” He pointed out. “Sure, you are now Kotomine Kirei, but you were originally Harry Potter. If you hadn’t been, then I bet that kid with the same name back in the castle would’ve been the one to compete in the Tournament.”

“Makes sense.” Kirei muttered as he sneaked glance at the assassin. “But we still have to win the event.”

This went without saying. If they wanted to go home, they had not only to get the prize to have the funds to travel back but also dismantle the Goblet and destroy any and all notes about its making.

* * *

Two left turns and one right, they finally met something with more intelligence.

“Ugh. You two _reek_.” A feminine voice scoffed at them.

It was a being with the body of lion and with a head of a female. Slanted green eyes were looking at them with fascinated disgust as the female pursed her lips while wrinkling its nose while lying on the ground, pale golden tail twitching with aggravation.

“ We know.” Kiritsugu grumbled out sourly. “So, what are our options? Getting showered in _your_ guts doesn’t sound appealing either, and I want to get out of the maze as soon as possible.

“Three options.” She lifted left paw and popped out one claw. “First one, riddle. Answer it correctly, you pass. Second one, also riddle. Answer it wrongly, I will attack.” Second claw popped out of its’ paw as she snorted at that option. “Last option - get away without answering the riddle. “ Third claw joined the former two. “However, you would have to take different route.”

Kiritsugu and Kirei eyed each other.

“If you don’t mind, we would like to take the riddle.” Kirei replied politely.

“Oh, I _so_ mind.” The sphinx grumbled sourly as she eyed them distastefully, wrinkling her petite nose. “But nothing can be done about that. So…”

She closed her eyes, humming a little. Then she spoke, her voice canting a hypnotic chant:

_“First think of the person who lives in disguise,_

_Who deals in secrets and tells naught but lies._

_Next, tell me what's always the last thing to mend,_

_The middle of middle and end of the end?_

_And finally give me the sound often heard,_

_During the search for a hard-to-find word._

_Now string them together and answer me this,_

_Which creature would you be unwilling to kiss?”_

Kiritsugu blinked. He scratched his head, grimacing at the feeling of drying guts in his hair. “Er, could you repeat it again, please?” He asked, his eyes narrowing in concentration.

Nodding, the sphinx fulfilled his request.

“Right.” Grabbing Kirei by the shoulder, he tugged him further away from the sphinx. “You got that?”

Kirei nodded. “Yes. “

“The person who lives in disguise… it’s a spy.” Kiritsugu continued, dark eyebrows furrowing. “But the middle of the middle and the end of an end…” He rubbed his temple, irritated.

“It’s a letter. D.” Kirei interrupted his mumbling smoothly, making Kiritsugu blink in astonishment. “Yeah, you are right. It does appear in the middle and the end. Er, what is the last one, as it doesn’t make a sense?”

Kirei smirked. “You just said it.” He pointed out, confusing the assassin. “I said what?” Kiritsugu asked, baffled.

“Er. String them all together and you get the thing you currently wear the guts of.”

Dark eyes widened. “Of course! It’s a spider! Kirei, I could’ve kissed you!”

He impulsively hugged the surprised priest before practically dragging him back to the sphinx which looked at them with disgruntlement at their disturbance of her clean air space with their offensive odor.

“Have you solved the riddle?” She asked, tail twitching impatiently.

“Yes. It’s a spider!” Kiritsugu snapped out. “Now, would you let us pass already!”

The sphinx blinked. “Well, yes. Do go on. Shoo.” She rose on her feet and vacated the way.

“Thank you.” Kirei bowed to her, making her smile.

“Yeah, no problem. And make sure he kisses you sometime.” She cheekily added, causing Kiritsugu to splutter and blush, while Kirei looked at the him speculatively.

“Maybe once when he will be clean again -“ Kirei agreed. Kiritsugu face palmed, his cheeks still burning with the blush residing there. “You are a freaking _priest_ , you moron, you don’t get kissy with me!” He hissed to his compatriot while he dragged him away, the sphinx’s bell-like laughter echoing behind them like a sweet song.

* * *

They burst onto the clearing. The circular place was clean of anything aside the pedestal with the Triwizard Cup on it. The Cup gleamed with ethereal blue light that came within the object. Dragon-like handles were made of silver, beckoning the winner to grab it.

Kiritsugu watched the Cup as they approached it. It was funny that they had wasted almost a year to get to a shiny trinket like this one. Despite the etchings, it was obvious that the Cup was not of a wizards’ make. But that was not important right now.

“Shall we?” He asked the priest as they stood in front of the Cup. Seeing him nod, they both reached for the cup, only for Kiritsugu to be slammed against the trophy by an additional weight as his stomach was entering the vertigo once again.

* * *

He slammed down, once again, his fingers cracking under the pressure and healing almost instantly, however the queasiness in his stomach didn’t leave at once. Instead of that, the assassin curled himself on the ground, gasping quietly with pain as he tried to regain his bearing.

It was official. Whatever that was, it sucked. Less than his original transportation to Hogwarts, but it was still in the second place of the Top Ten Suckiest Means Of Transport.

There was a feminine moan on his back, making him blink with confusion.

His eyes looked at the surroundings automatically. It was a dark and drab place, with tombstones and some angels here and there. Body tensing, he checked if he still had his Contender. His hand… still held the priest’s hand - actually, it was crushed between the handle and his hand.

 _“Oof.”_ Another groan echoed above him, before he was relieved of the burden that had been unceremoniously dumped on his person.

The bumblebee colors clued him in on his attackers.

“Ow. Where are we? And ewww, they _stink_.” The girl – Chang-something complained as she rolled over to her boyfriend who quietly groaned in discontent.

Kiritsugu stayed quiet.

“Dunno. It looks like a graveyard. Another test, ya reckon?” Diggory asked as he struggled to get up.

 _‘More like another clusterfuck._ ’ Kiritsugu’s eyebrow twitched with irritation. He didn’t have time for it. Neither of them had time to babysit the two bumbling teenagers if the situation was what Kiritsugu suspected it to be. His hand was being slowly released from the steel grasp -

“Kill the spare!” The high voice demanded, making the girl yelp and a moment later, there was a green light streaking toward the Hufflepuff Champion, only for him to be hit with a hard object that made both of them vanish back, letting the green light harmlessly explode against the ground they had been half-lying the moment before.

“WORMTAIL! YOU USELESS DUNDERHEAD!” The high-pitched screech made Kiritsugu cringe with its volume as he struggled to breathe quietly. It had been by a sheer reflex that he activated _Accel_ and shoved the Cup to the Hufflepuff - another moment, and they would have to deal with a corpse. He didn’t think that it would activate again, but it was a lucky chance it did - now there were no bystanders to hinder them.

“But M-Master, I did get one!” This ‘Wormtail’ whined out, his voice trembling with fear.

“Never mind. Take Potter’s blood!” The high-pitched voice commanded, causing the man-rat to squeak and comply with its orders. Kiritsugu didn’t move. Instead, he slowly inhaled.

 _‘Time Alter -Triple Stagnate.’_ His senses dulled and the dark world washed into a dull white as he felt his heart slow down until it thudded with a painfully dragging pace. He felt the chain between him and Kirei yank painfully on his wrist and he had to bite back a curse. Instead of that, his body was limp and cold.

He had been dragged a little bit forward, and then, the tugging stopped, but the chain remained tense, suspending his right hand in the air where it hung limply.

Now, it only remained for him to stand still and wait for an opportune moment.

* * *

 _‘This was not supposed to happen.’_ Kirei blinked, his vision swimming. The transportation to wherever they were currently did a number on him, and he had a feeling that Kiritsugu was in no better shape. He had felt the bones of the hand under his give in with a sickeningly crackly feeling and then, they had been squished together for a moment, dark silhouette against another dark one and he belatedly saw a bumblebee-colored person roll off the assassin. He slowly released the hand he had squished against a handle -

“ – Kill the spare!” The high-pitched voice’s command, with a yelp of surprise following almost immediately after, and then, Kiritsugu _moved,_ shoving the Cup against the male bumblebee, making the Hogwarts duo somehow vanish in the night, just before the bright green light slammed to the place Diggory had lain a scant moment ago.

And then, nothing. Kirei’s blood ran cold with dread.

Had Kiritsugu been killed? He struggled to get his senses working, strained them, really, to get something, anything that could tell him the assassin was still alive –

“WORMTAIL! YOU USELESS DUNDERHEAD!” The screech of anger penetrated the night like a dull serrated knife.

“B-but M-Master, I did get one!” A breathy male voice whined out as its owner scrabbled across the ground nervously.

“Never mind. Take Potter’s blood!” The same high voice commanded, and Kirei felt himself to be jerked upward and dragged to the tombstone by a mysterious force. The shackle on his wrist dug into his skin fiercely, once again reminding him of the dead weight on the other side of the chain.

 _‘Not Kiritsugu. This... couldn’t be possible.’_ The thought blasted through his head, as he sluggishly blinked, taking in the surroundings.

They were in some decrepit old graveyard that was largely uncared for, as indicated by the chapped and crumbling tombstones. Belatedly, he felt his body slam against one of the stone slabs that were still standing, and then, his body was being wrapped with steel chains. In front of him, there was a large cauldron with something bubbling within its depths ominously. Jerking his right hand, Kirei struggled within chains.

“Who are you?” His question was flat, but with a glint of steel within. “Why did you kidnap us?”

The small man shuffled toward him. His demeanor was nervous, small watery eyes shifting around cautiously, as if he expected to be attacked at any time now, and his face was covered with grubby skin that added even more to his grotesque form when it stretched into a bald patch on his head.  He rolled up Kirei’s right sleeve nervously, exposing the pale skin of his forearm to the night air.

The man raised his right arm, making the blade glint in the flickering light. Dark eyes widening, Kirei felt a stab of pain as his forearm was being knifed a moment later, the blade gouging deeply within the meat and severing the vein here. The blood gushed our in a dark red trickle, making the man yelp and fumble for the chalice. Hurriedly, he pressed it against Kirei’s bleeding forearm, and soon, the chalice was full.

The rat-like man then turned toward the cauldron.

“Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew his son!” The man spoke out as he dropped a bone in the cauldron – _‘humerus bone,’_ \- Kirei’s brain sluggishly supplied him with - and the potion gleamed a poisonous blue color.

“Flesh of the servant, willingly sacrificed, y-you will revive your master.” Voice shaking a little, the wizard lifted his right hand over the cauldron and with a single word, he sliced his wrist, making a pained screech as he did so. The color of the potion changed into burning red.

“B-Blood of the enemy, for-forcefully ta-taken. Y-you will resurrect your foe!” The rat-man sobbed out as he poured the contents of the chalice in the cauldron, and Kirei’s eyes became blinded by the flash of light that emitted from the cauldron.

Hurried steps, and then, something was dropped in the liquid, making a splashing sound.

 _“Finally.”_ A sibilant voice hissed out, making Kirei open his eyes.

It came out from a skeleton of a man, more monster than a human, even if he had human-like skeleton, but his skin was unnaturally white, and his eyes were red with a snakelike slits. The monster tilted his head down as to look at Kirei, absentmindedly accepting the cloak from its blubbering servant.

“Wormtail. My wand.” He commanded, and trembling, the rat-like man, handed him the required object, bowing deeply as he did so.

“Well done, my servant.” Voldemort muttered, looking at the pathetic huddle at his feet.

“Master…. Master, you are back! You are finally back!” The huddle blubbered as he clutched the wrist of his right hand as to stave off the blood that was dripping out of it.

“And you shall be rewarded.” With a negligent flick of his want, something silver coalesced in the dark air, before shooting to Wormtail’s severed wrist and attach itself to it, making the rat scream with pain as it trashed on the ground, while the silver light - mist - solidified and coalesced into a hand.

A moment or two later, the sobbing and sniveling subsided, and the rat looked at the previously severed wrist with awe, admiring the silvery substitute, flexing and clenching the fingers. “T - Thank you, Master.” He stuttered, looking at the monster with adoration.

“Harry Potter.” The monstrous being mused, red eyes now focusing at the priest that was chained to the cold stone.

“Voldemort.” Kirei replied evenly, his own attention sharpening as he looked at his new opponent.

The snakelike man chuckled. “My, how impertinent. Though I didn’t expect that my servant’s use of Goblet would bring forth _you_ of all people.” He strode forward, until he was right in front of Kirei, forcing the pries to tilt his head as to look up in those blood red, serpentine eyes.

“A priest, of all things. Ahh, what an irony.” Kirei clenched his jaw. For some reason, this man’s voice grated at his nerves. It sounded a little like that of Archer’s, but while Gilgamesh had every reason under the sun to be uppity - he was a King of Heroes, after all, this … excuse for a being had none.

“This night, we will finish our fight once and for all.” Voldemort murmured, cool breath from his lips caressing Kirei’s mouth, but the priest didn’t flinch. “I would say that it’s a shame that Wormtail killed your partner, but that would be a lie. And both of us know how much priests hate lies, don’t we?”

Kirei’s fists clenched at his sides, and he disregarded the blood sluicing down his arm.

Finally, Voldemort turned, chuckling. “But of course, my return wouldn’t be right without my faithful witnessing it. Wormtail, your arm!” He commanded to the rat-like servant who flinched, but scurried forward, and kneeling, offered his left forearm, with a grotesque tattoo of skull and snake to the Dark Lord. Voldemort lifted his wand, and pressed on the skull harshly, eliciting a pitiful half-whisper, half-scream from his servant as he activated the Dark mark.

A few moments later, Kirei heard pops, and saw the darkly robed silhouettes encircle them.

The Death Eaters have arrived.

* * *

 

**_/To Be Continued/_ **


	9. It's who we are

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter; nor do I own Fate/Zero. Not their characters starring therein. But I do own this little story.
> 
> Shout Out: Y’all will be very, very grateful bunch who should worship Luna13’s feet for delivering this one scarily fast. I know I am. And in awe of her frenchpertise. And surprise, surprise, this is the bona fide second to last chapter. Yeah, I could’ve waited to get the whole thing out in one piece, but dear me, cliffhangers are such an interesting thing to have, here you go. I could be sorry, but I can’t muster the sincerity for being so. Good news - got the beta for both Crimson Sagittarius and Among The Hawks And Doves, so those two will be revved up again in the near future.
> 
> Warnings: AU-verse, and the mandatory Kirei/Kiritsugu shenanigans, meaning this is slash. You will just have to find everything else out for yourselves.

Blank silver masks stared at the snakelike man in the middle of the circle. 

“My Lord, you are finally back.” One of the silhouettes spoke out, the trembling voice filled with awe. Red eyes glanced at the silhouette. “I never doubted you would return.” The male who spoke knelt down, bowing his head as if in supplication. 

“Nor did I, my Lord.” Another one spoke out, and then, the murmurs of assent echoed among the group. 

“Rise, my faithful.” Voldemort commanded, prompting the dark forms to move. “I know, some of you were faithful to me…. Even to the extent of having been sent in Azkaban. For that, you shall be rewarded beyond your wildest dreams. “ He paused, red eyes looking over the group. “But others... It seems you lost your faith. Where were you when there were rumors of my return a year before?” The monster strode to the nearest shadow and ripped it’s mask off of its face, revealing an aristocratic face with silver eyes and pale blonde hair spilling forth from the hood. 

Lucius Malfoy. Lucius Malfoy, of all people. Kirei knew he should have been shocked, but he wasn’t. Not really. 

“Where were you?” Voldemort repeated as he continued his walk of blame among Death Eathers, unmasking them one after another. 

The twins. Another man, with cruel facial features, slugging an axe along on his shoulder. Faces, faces, and more faces, both males and females, all pale, tense and dark-eyed.

_ “Where were you!?” _ The snake monster screamed, making them flinch away from the rage bottled in those three incriminating words. The incriminating silence told more than enough. 

Dark red eyes narrowed. “No matter. Tonight, I, Lord Voldemort returned, and it’s only fitting to celebrate my success.”

“Of course, my Lord,” “Yes, my Lord,” “Absolutely.” Such murmurs and similar ones buzzed between the Death Eaters.

“And I will begin with the thorn in my heel, one Harry James Potter.” Voldemort concluded, making them gasp and their attention flashed to Kirei. 

“My Lord, you caught him!” One of the Death Eaters squeaked. 

“Of course I did.” Voldemort’s snakelike nostrils flared in indignation. The monster turned to the Kirei once again. “I am insulted that you even hinted I couldn’t get him from under Dumbledore’s hand.”

“B-But he doesn’t have glasses.” One of the braver - or was it dumber? - Death Eaters commented. Not a moment later, he promptly dropped on the ground screaming in agony as the dark red spell slammed into him. 

The screeches were horrible. Kirei fought the urge to wince. Whatever it was, it wasn’t pleasant. It left the idiotic lackey on the ground, trembling in agony and babbling incoherently before two comrades besides him hauled him upright. 

“The Goblet doesn’t make mistakes, you fool!” Voldemort practically hissed at the imbecilic human being which shrank back pitifully. “The one that is bound to contract - the real Potter - is this one here!” He sharply pointed at Kirei.

If the situation weren’t so serious, the entire debacle would’ve been one straight for comic books. Evil Dark Lord schooling dumb minions on appropriate enemies, or some such chapter. 

“I have to admit, whatever Dumbledore had done to hide you, it was an exceptional strategy.” He addressed Kirei, his voice once again silky with a hissy undertone. “However, this night, here and now, your luck is about to come on an end. But Lord Voldemort is not without a mercy, and as such, I shall allow you the privilege of dueling me.” 

With a flick of wand, Kirei felt himself being released from the tombstone. Another flick, and the chain that bound him to Kiritsugu was shattered, leaving only a shackle on his left wrist and the curious feeling of being bereft within his chest cavity. 

Slowly, he unclenched his fists, and then clenched them again to get the feeling back in his fingers. His head was a little bit light from the blood loss, but it was nothing that he couldn’t deal with. Dark eyes zeroed onto the monster in front of him, calculating and recalculating the ways to cull it for good. 

_ ‘Kill the spare.’ _

No. Kiritsugu couldn’t be dead. 

He just couldn’t.

Kirei remembered the feeling of crushing the Magus Killer’s chest cavity when they had been fighting for Holy Grail - how the bones snapped under the pressure, that shocked look on the assassin’s face as he fell - and then his own shock when the man stood up and fought  _ again  _ –

“You shouldn’t have killed him.” His words were cold, detached, but the meaning behind them was clear.

‘ _ I’ll kill you for it.’ _

“He was just a spare.” Voldemort waved his chastisement away negligently. “Now, Harry, it’s customary to bow before beginning to duel. Bow to me.”

Kirei stood still, dark eyes cold and void. “I don’t bow to monsters.”

Blood-colored eyes flared with surprise and fury. “You dare to spurn my mercy?” The Dark lord hissed. “I. Said.  _ Bow! _ ”

This time, there was some kind of a compulsion lacing his words, seductive, soft and gentle, and so utterly  _ alien _ to Kirei that he immediately rejected it. It was too like the seduction of that succubus…that it made him sick. To have his own mind subverted against him… was forbidden. 

“And I refuse.” Those words spoken, Kirei’s world immediately bloomed within the lightning of agony as the red spell collided with his body, making his nerves spasm and bubble within his bones, muscles and organs - it felt as if he were simultaneously electrocuted and on fire.

Clenching his teeth, Kirei had a brief flash what this kind of attack could have done to  _ Kiritsugu, _ and something within him snapped. 

“I. Said.  _ No!” _ The last word was practically a bark of unrestrained fury, making the Death Eaters unconsciously flinch back at his tone and Voldemort pause. 

“Very well.” The Dark Lord sneered, but his sneer was thoughtful. “Malfoy, you call out.”

The platinum-haired Death Eater bowed. “As you wish, my Lord.”

Calling out was a standard beginning of a duel, after the bows were over and done with. Usually done by an impartial judge of witness that was beyond reproach and in more rough times, by an accidental bystander who had the bad luck of being roped in a duel just by being here. 

The Malfoy came between them, his hair glinting dully in the darkness. “This is the duel between Lord Voldemort and Harry James Potter. On my mark… ready… steady…  _ Go!” _

The world exploded in a violent red light, but Kirei was already away from the center of the attack. Throwing two Black Keys forward, he found them to be blocked by the marble wall, effectively nullifying them. However, that wasn’t Kirei’s plan. Instead of that, he shot forward - 

_ -‘Fast!’ _ – was Voldemort’s only thought - 

-it looked like he had apparated from one side to another, his strike missing by the width of a hair as the Dark Lord immediately disapparated from the place he was standing, forcing Kirei to agilely jump into the air to avoid the pit that appeared beneath him. 

Another pair of Black Keys whistled forward, this time finding their target with unerring accuracy, one blade sinking into Voldemort’s right shoulder, causing him to drop his wand, and the other into left knee, forcing him to collapse, with a scream of pain from his lipless mouth.

And then, everything devolved into chaos. 

The Death Eaters surged forward  _ en masse, _ spells alighting the night with their colorful appearances, but despite their colors, they were a true danger. 

Kirei had already lost much of his blood, and using speed like he had been using it right now wasn’t the wisest course of the action. 

But he had dealt with worse. So he delegated both the pain and feeling of lightheadedness into the back of his brain and concentrated on dodging the oncoming curses.

_ “Cruccio!”  _

_ “Avada Kedavra!” _

_ “Ira flagellus!”  _

_ “Erum - gurk!” _

The third Death Eater’s chant was interrupted via him choking on his own blood as a cold knife pierced his stomach, and letting the gravity spill out his innards. 

_ ‘No time -!’ _

Kirei jumped into the fray, the Back Keys lodging themselves in the throats or hearts of the rest of the attackers before he had to rely on his martial arts to stop them. He slid forward, kicking on the side and breaking the would-be attacker’s right leg completely, making the man crash on the ground with a pained scream. Next one, crushing the thorax of the fool that thought himself sneaky enough to caught Kirei unaware by attacking him from behind via elbow strike, and then, pouncing forward, using a combo to crush the woman’s chest cavity and causing her to spit out blood. Mindless violence he knew only too well how to dish out. 

And there, in the corner of his eye, he saw a shadow slipping past him, almost invisible in the darkness, and his heart jumped. 

_ Could it be…? _

The blinding pain caught him unaware, making him drop like a sack of potatoes. 

And the world exploded. 

* * *

Kiritsugu’s body was at its limits. Going from  _ Triple Stagnate  _ to _ Double Accel _ in the space of a breath was a foolhardiness to the extreme, his heart had already simultaneously exploded and collapsed, followed by repairing itself and it was only by the grace of housing Avalon within his body, that he was now even alive. Instead, he forced his body above its limits as he tore in the Death Eaters, his bowie knife glinting with the blood of his victims.

The terrified screams, curses and howls of utter agony of his victims accompanied his way, but Kiritsugu didn’t care. He was long used to causing carnage, even if not so directly, but these Death Eaters were the scum of the lowest order and he didn’t feel any guilt, whatsoever, for gutting the fools that attempted to attack him. 

The less of them lived, the better off his chance for survival were. 

Swiftly, he ripped away the pin and hurled the grenade in the middle the group of Death Eaters that were lagging behind, quickly rolling himself on the ground to avoid the brunt of shrapnels. Somehow, he managed to look at Kirei, and the blood in his veins froze.

Only one thing could Incapacitate Kirei like that - only one  _ person _ \- and Kiritsugu was sure that they were stashed back at Hogwarts!

He coughed, spitting out the globs of blood that gathered them in his mouth. The warm, frothy, metallic taste felt like a failure on his tongue. Grunting, he felt the ropes wrap around his body, biting mercilessly in his already overly sensitized skin and muscles and making him lose his balance.

The fall was a blistering agony in and of itself. 

This was not a clusterfuck. 

This was a  _ super _ -clusterfuck. 

And Kiritsugu definitely wasn’t paid enough to deal with that shit.

If they got out of there alive, Kiritsugu swore, Kirei would pay for the inconvenience he had caused to him with pounds of his own flesh.

* * *

The graveyard cum battlefield was strewn with the pieces of human bodies, in various states - sliced off appendage or two, pink, pale white and violet entrails, and bits of blood, flesh, skin and bone that originated from the epicenter of the grenade’s explosion. 

Carelessly, a foot stepped on the lone eyeball with blue iris and squished it.

The air was heavy with the pungent odor of blood and stomach acids. It looked more of a particularly messy slaughterhouse’s floor than a proper battlefield. Dead bodies that remained there were also mutilated - either missing guts, or having a crushed air pipe or even caved in chest. Instant death in some cases. In others, rather messy one. 

A lone clapping sound reverberated across the space, like a mockery of congratulations to the violence that had occurred just scant moments before.

“Extraordinary.” A boyish voice commented as indifferent green eyes looked over the battlefield coolly. “So, Voldemort… Still thinking that Muggles are something to underestimate?”

_ “Ssshut up.” _ The snake-like monster on the floor hissed out peevishly as he clumsily waved his wand to repair the damage done to his knee. 

Darkness and silence reigned the once dignified, even if a little bit shabby graveyard. There were four people in total - four living, at any rate. 

The two others were currently indisposed. 

Kiritsugu was bound with ropes, dark eyes glaring at the culprit who managed to foil him, and the other one was Kirei who was currently clutching at his head while he was curled into the pathetic little ball on the floor. 

_ Unacceptable.  _

That was the thought that ran through Kiritsugu mind at the moment. 

The assassin never saw Kirei so undignified like he did now - not even when they were almost at the end of their little fight for the Grail, riddled with wounds and barely surviving Kiritsugu’s Origin bullet, this man didn’t beg. Even if he had killed his beloved Ilya, Kirei didn’t ask for perdition. Not that Kiritsugu would have given it to him – on one side, Ilya was a casualty of war, and on the other, Kiritsugu held enough of sentiment for Ilya and resentment for Kirei at the time that he didn’t even think of just plain forgiving the priest. 

But this - this  _ travesty _ of a fight had no redeeming qualities whatsoever. 

For Kirei to be crippled by the mere presence of that brat - dark eyes glared at the green-eyed teenager - Kiritsugu couldn’t accept that. 

Kirei was his opponent. Only Kiritsugu had come as far as to have that lost monster of a priest on his knees and staring death in its eyeless sockets. But for this brat to have the same privilege, and not only that, his mere presence was causing Kirei agony beyond words – Kirei didn’t hate many things, but this kid, he found out he could hate with a passion of thousand suns. 

“Really, and you are supposed to be a Dark Lord?” The youth sneered at the snake man once again. “Shall I remind you that you lost to a _ babe _ of all things, and let’s not mention how pathetic your performance was in the last four years. If it weren’t for me coming right then, you would’ve been deader than doornail. “

Red eyes glared at Harry Potter. “Potter, if you value your miserable life, you will shut up.”

A sarcastic laugh. “You already owe me, Voldie. And in case you’ve forgotten, I  _ am _ a part of you!” The youth dodged the hex, dancing out of its range effortlessly, much to the monster’s rage.

“Pathetic. That’s what you are. Those two Squibs nearly decimated your inner circle - wait, no, they totally _ decimated _ it. “ Merciless green eyes zeroed onto the priest and then, the youth strode forward, crouching in front of Kirei. 

“I have to admit, I didn’t think that my opponent would be a priest of all things.” He mused, wincing as he rubbed his right temple before he bent down. Then, Kirei’s jaw was grabbed into a merciless hold and yanked upward. Pain-darkened brown eyes stared into green ones as the boy’s breath caressed his face in a mockery of touch.

“You know, I don’t believe in God. God never helped me. He didn’t help me when I was stuck with your overbearing relatives. He didn’t help me when I had to suffer their holier-than-thou attitudes, coping with minuscule amount of food while they helped themselves with sumptuous feasts. He didn’t help me when I was chased by Ripper or that kid of theirs, Dudders.“ Thin lips quirked into a mirthless smirk. “He sure as hell didn’t help me when I was saddled with that title of yours. As I see it, you owe me one long overdue death. And I, ‘ _ Harry Potter’ _ , intend to collect.” He ended with a morbid chuckle at the priest’s wince. 

Kirei winced. The pain was unbearable and he barely could concentrate on the teen’s crazed ramblings. 

“He is mine.” The snake man hissed. “I will kill him, as it’s my right.” Conjuring a stick, he managed to drag himself upward as to glare at the scrawny teen. “He was the one that rebounded the curse and doomed me to the fourteen years long existence as a ghost!” 

* * *

 

Kiritsugu’s thoughts froze at the Dark Lord’s innocent comment as he had an unexpected light bulb moment.  _ ‘Resonance. How didn’t I see this sooner?’ _ The assassin asked himself silently, horrified at his own oversight. 

Now everything was clear. Kiritsugu breathed out an expletive, not daring to be loud. It didn’t mean his cursing was any less vehement.

Dammit. Somehow, Kirei managed to create a homunculus of all things. A homunculus who was now hell-bent to kill him.

The thing was in theory very simple, but in execution, it was nigh impossible. 

In rebounding the curse, both Kirei and Voldemort basically created an impossible situation – an unstoppable force moving an immovable object _. Avada Kedavra _ never failed… until then. And if Kiritsugu had to hypothesize…Kirei’s, then Harry’s natural disposition was of a Magus, and his Origin being Spirit and Heal, practically rebounded the curse back to the caster… but not without a hefty price. 

That night, it wasn’t only Voldemort’s soul being ripped out of his body and doomed to roam the world…but also Kirei’s. And not only that – Kirei’s soul had been ripped out of time and space and deposited in the dying body of an abandoned baby which was later on found by Father Risei. 

And because of the forceful vacation of his original body, a part of Voldemort’s soul had been sucked into the baby’s body, essentially adapting to the identity of ‘Harry’ as it were. It wasn’t a coincidence that ‘Harry’ had a gift of Parseltongue of all things, while none in the Potter family had it. 

Still, this ‘Harry‘ was, for all intents and purposes, a Homunculus. A Homunculus in a living body, a fraction of a soul that gained the personality of its previous owner.

The resonance was the key. Both of their spirits -  _ souls _ \- resonated with each other, causing an imbalance within their bodies, thus causing the headaches and in the long run, tearing their bodies apart. It dislodged tentative connections between the material and spiritual body hard enough to chafe them, because their placement was essentially  _ wrong _ , as neither of the spirits was in their correct body. 

It was like playing with a crystal glass, sliding with a finger on its edge. The finger’s pressure has to be light and yet firm enough for the glass to give off a sound - but the faster you are sliding your finger along the glass’ edge, the higher and faster are the vibrations, until you reach to the point the glass simply can’t hold on and shatters. 

Them being essentially at the same place, was like playing the glass’ edge at a higher pace, and it was only the question of time when one of them would shatter. 

And Kiritsugu could only pray that the one at loss wouldn’t be Kirei. 

Because his next gamble could very well be their last one. 

* * *

Kirei could barely think with the sheer mass of pain his head was causing him. He had been tortured, had his bones broken and his flesh was sliced apart, and he was fine with that kind of pain. Of course, it hadn’t been pleasant, getting such injuries never was, but this - this was the next level of unbearable. 

This strange… soul-doppelganger or whatever it was of Voldemort, effectively held him in a checkmate.

_ Helpless. _ That was how he felt right now. 

He hadn’t felt so powerless since that disastrous mission with ghouls back when he was eleven years old and everyone in his squad aside from him had died. Kirei had survived, but at the time, even he had to admit it was by some kind of sheer dumb luck. Since then, he trained, double and triple and quadruple as to ensure he would never again be in such a position.

It was like his brain was on fire and being fried with electricity along with his nerves being pounded via ten ton hammers. His eyes involuntarily watered from the pressure, and he blinked as to remove the annoyingly blurry picture in front of his eyes. 

Kiritsugu was not much of a help, what with him being tied with ropes – if he were a lesser man, Kirei would have laughed at the irony of a wand-brat catching a Magus Killer within such a simple contraption. 

“So… How do you propose that I deal with you. And before you say ‘duel’ this choice is not available. But hmmm… we have decapitation, stabbing through heart, going with good old  _ Cruccio  _ or  _ Avada Kedavra _ \- no, let’s stay with manual methods. Messier, but less chance to backfire on us, no matter how interesting the experiment would have been.” The kid mused, green eyes roving over Kirei’s messed up appearance critically. 

The priest didn’t cut a good picture, what with the gunk of Acromantula’s guts drying on his person and his forearm still bleeding, his right sleeve wet with life-giving substance that dripped on the ground silently as his fingers twitched helplessly for the Black Key or two. 

Kirei remained silent, only his mouth tightening a margin betrayed that he was still living. 

The wand caressed his left cheek. 

“Maybe a cutting curse or two at first, if you don’t mind.” The teen in front of him purred before he winced. “And maybe I will toy with your little friend later on. A helpful toy is always welcome, after all.” The smirk on the homunculus’ face incensed Kirei. “After all a good assassin is hard to come by.”

The hand with a wand lifted in the air, the tip glaring with a sickly red light preparing to carve in his flesh.

“Kirei. By the power of the Holy Grail,  _ destroy him! _ ”

The priest’s spine stiffened at the half-snarled, half-gurgled out voice. 

_ Kiritsugu’s voice.  _ It electrified him, made him move, as if he were the beast on his behest. The sound of both his doom and salvation at once. The heart within his chest thumped -  _ hard _ \- and thumped - once again,  _ hard _ \- and Kirei  _ moved. _

His muscles coiling, one hand automatically reached for the Black Keys, igniting it almost in the same moment that his fingers touched the weapon, his body sprang forward in an automatic movement, honed from the long hours of practice and use, whitish-blue blades seemingly moving at a lightning-like speed. 

His aim was true. The blades found their place - three in the boy’s chest and one of them was lodged straight through the lightning bolt on his head, making Voldemort scream with fury and pain. 

_ “Avada Kedavra!” _ The Dark Lord bellowed, pointing his wand at the instigator, red eyes alit with wrath. This time, the green light found its target, slamming in the assassin’s back ruthlessly, making the youth gasp and those dark eyes widen before his face became blank - truly blank - and he crumbled on the ground.

Kirei’s heart may as well be stopped and changed to stone and ground into tiny powder at once.

No link anymore.

Not this time. 

_ Nothing.  _

_ “You…” _ He ground out, glaring at the Voldemort, dark eyes for once filled with fury. 

The Dark lord stood up, a little bit awkwardly, but it seemed that whatever Healing charm he used, must have worked exceptionally well as he wobbled minutely before stabilizing himself. Shakily, Kirei followed his example, inhaling and exhaling slowly as to maintain his crumbling equilibrium, his body screaming at him to rest, but disregarded it’s messages. 

This was more important.

“You killed him.” He breathed out. “You killed Kiritsugu.”

The snake-like man watched him, his pale, snake-like face dispassionate. “Shame. He was a good opponent.” Voldemort muttered, snakelike red orbs flicking at the downed form of one of his enemies temporarily before zeroing back to Kirei. “He had figured it out… not many would.” Pale hand lifted, the glint of the light on the dark wand’s wood ominous. “Like my Horcrux said, he could’ve been invaluable.” He lifted his wand again, ready to curse the living daylights out of the priestly annoyance in front of him.

Dull brown eyes widened.

_ A Horcrux. _ Of course.

Kirei had read about those abominations when he had been in Vatican for his trials as Executor. There was not much about them, and they were more of speculations than true blue accounts, but in this moment, this was the only logical reason for the boy’s total turnaround. 

Harry was never Harry. Harry was Tom - or at least part of him - brushed on with a new brush, so to speak. A Horcrux molded into semblance of ‘Harry Potter’, an ugly painting painted over with a fresh, vivid colors that had a job to hide it’s true, hideous nature from the world. The trump card of Voldemort’s survival.

His body still thrumming from the shock of revelations, he absentmindedly dodged the oncoming curse smoothly and a moment later, there was a blood-curdling scream being torn out from the throat of his adversary.

_ “AARGH!” _ The wizard clutched at his stump of an arm, pale white hand already staining with red and sliver. “You fucking bastard, what have you done to me!” He backed away, but it was already too late, even if he didn’t know about it.

Kirei didn’t answer. Instead of that, he strode toward the monster that killed what was his, mercilessly kicking it into the stomach, the force of the kick propelling the snake-like man forward against the broken tombstone and making him crash into the edge of the granite block. 

A sickeningly loud crack of the bone was heard in the night, and Voldemort wheezed through the additional load of pain. 

Spinal injury. He couldn’t feel anything below legs and his spine felt as if it were on fire itself. 

But  _ how!? _ His body should have been durable, beyond human limits, but this - this priest had broken him apart like it was nothing! Heart hammering loudly in his chest, if he wanted to live - 

“W - Who are you?” He managed to choke out, red eyes wide with terror as he watched his nemesis’ approach him.

Deep, emotionless, merciless eyes glared at him. “It doesn’t matter. You took what was mine to take. Your life will be a poor compensation, but – “

A strong right hand was placed on the struggling man’s head, and remained here despite the Voldemort’s increasingly desperate attempts to dislodge it. 

Then, Kirei opened his mouth once again.

_ “I kill, I give life. I injure, I heal. There are none who escape from my hands. There are none who escape from my eyes.  _ _  
_ _  May it be so that you are shattered.” _

This miserable soul that dared to kill Kiritsugu who was _ Kirei’s  _ to kill - 

_ “I welcome the defeated, the aged. Surrender to me, learn from me, obey me.  _ _  
_ _  May you be at rest. “ _

If it was by Kirei’s will, Voldemort would have been granted the absolution. Because Kirei would never again see those dark eyes glaring at him, feel that cold, scrawny, mamba-like body snuggling or struggling against his own, depending on the situation, never rest – 

_  “Do not forget the song, do not forget the prayer, do not forget me. I relieve you of all burdens.  _ _  
_ _  May it be so that there is no deception.”  _

The golden light that began to emanate from Kirei’s hand, placed on the monster’s bald head began to intensify, creating a startling contrast between those dark, merciless eyes and the paleness of the priest’s skin, making him seem more like terrifying devil of wrath than heavenly angel of retribution. 

The monster beneath priest’s hand opened its mouth in a wordless scream, the sharp fangs flashing in the dim light, blood red, snakelike eyes wide as his lone hand tried to scrabble against the priest in an attempt to stop him, to survive for some scant moments longer. 

_ “Retaliation unto forgiveness, betrayal unto belief, despair unto hope, darkness unto light, death unto life.  _ _  
_ _  May you rest in my hands. Let there be mark of your sins. Eternal life is found only in death. “ _

The claw like hand froze in the air, as those red eyes glazed over, as if they were seeing something indecipherable, while their owner was being presented an unexpected solution. Its mouth moved, trying to articulate whatever the monster had seen in the light that was now a warm, bright golden light, which was slowly fading into white. The body slumped in defeat. 

_ “Forgiveness is before you, and so my incarnation vows:  _ _  
_ _  ‘May God have mercy of this soul (Kyrie eleison)’" _

The light changed from pale gold into the blinding white for a heartbeat, and then, it was over. 

The monster’s body under his hand was a lifeless husk, which crumbled into dust the moment a breeze blew over. The priest’s hand paused in the position for a little longer, before Kirei let it fall, his shoulders slumping in exhausted defeat. 

This was by far the worst win he had acquired. 

He had paid far too high price this time. And the worst thing was, it wasn’t him who paid it, but Kiritsugu.

At his own expense.

He disregarded his still bleeding forearm and his body’s overall weakness after using  _ Kyrie eleison _ . 

That little fool. 

Kirei’s heart twisted with agony, as if it had been torn and quartered to tiny pieces without anesthesia. 

He shouldn’t have done that. 

He shouldn’t have used the last Commanding Seal. 

Rationally, Kirei knew it was the only way, but that didn’t mean he agreed with the results that came out of it. 

Clumsily, he headed to Kiritsugu’s body, and knelt beside it. Strong hands began to untie the ropes slowly and methodically, with a gentle care, as if their now dead prisoner was to shatter at any given moment. 

Kiritsugu didn’t deserve to be trussed up like a turkey, not even in death. The task was completed less efficiently like Kirei would have wanted it to be, his hands being unusually clumsy. The assassin’s body was clad in his messy attire, suit and the coat over it, both still dirtied with acromantula’s gunk and blood, the same with his hair. His face was a little dirty and scratched, dark eyes staring sightlessly somewhere into distance.

He gathered the assassin’s body in his embrace, heavy and limp, the still body’s chest not rising and falling anymore, that smart mouth not growling or snarking at him. Instead of it, those thin lips were silenced… forever. Shakily, Kirei closed assassin’s sightless eyes and for a moment, he managed to imagine that Kiritsugu was just sleeping. 

Sleeping an eternal sleep, that is. 

“You know what, you are unfair. You still owe me a kiss, Kiritsugu.” He muttered to his enemy turned partner, his throat uncomfortably tight with feelings that were rolling in his heart. “Was that victory really worth your life?”

_ ‘One for ten, ten for hundred, hundred for thousand, thousand for a million.’ _

Kiritsugu’s maxim was a mockery of his wishes, and now, it was a mockery of Kirei’s dreams and wishes too.

Bowing down, Kirei clumsily pressed his lips to the unmoving ones in a gentle close-mouthed kiss, inhaling the scent of winter and gunpowder that still clung to the corpse on his hands. 

He held the kiss for a moment, and then, he kissed Kiritsugu’s forehead, before looking at Kiritsugu’s face once again. 

Coffee brown eyes widened as he was confronted with dazed, but open, dark eyes. 

Inhale. Exhale. 

Not his own, but the breath weakly susurrating through the assassins air passageways. 

But that wasn’t what made Kiritsugu’s breath catch in his chest with almost agonizing intensity. 

It was that tiny, almost invisible, smile on the man’s lips. 

“What did I say about kissing me again?” The hoarse voice teased him, and Kirei choked, his eyesight becoming blurry and then, the callused hand he got to know so well gently wiped the moisture off his cheeks before Kirei grasped it in his own right hand. 

“Not to, because I am a priest.” He managed to get out, and his lips involuntarily stretched upward into a small smile.

Kiritsugu emitted a weak snort. “Not that you heeded it, you scoundrel.” Amused, he watched Kirei’s happy face transform into a vaguely terrified one.

“Um. How did you know?” Kirei didn’t even try to deny his misdeed, as he eyed the assassin in his embrace cautiously. Better be safe than sorry, after all. 

“Curry.” Kiritsugu deadpanned, and Kirei turned his head away, embarrassment coloring his cheeks.

He felt his hand being squeezed briefly, Kiritsugu’s grip as weak as one of a newborn kitten.

“I still owe you one.” Kiritsugu said, making Kirei’s eyes snap back to his face, his heart hammering with disbelief and hope. Kiritsugu grimaced, causing Kirei’s heart to sink with dejection. “ _ After  _ we get cleaned up.” He snarked, and Kirei looked at him with the mixture of exasperation and relief. 

“I’ll hold you to that.”

They were sitting in the middle of carnage and broken tombstones with guts, blood and corpses still cooling down around them, with only semi-darkness and some warm wind as their witnesses, both of them still covered in blood, dried guts and dirt. 

They would have to return, and explain entire mess to the wand-wavers. They would be persecuted and feared again. Along with that, the Goblet of Fire still had to be destroyed, completely and irrevocably. But right now, none of this mattered as Kirei bent down once again, capturing those smirking lips in a kiss. 

“ _ Okaerinasai _ , Kiritsugu.” He breathed against the assassin’s lips, making them quirk in amusement. 

_ “Tadaima.” _ Kiritsugu murmured, and then, he kissed him once again. 

* * *

Somewhere within Akasha, a beautiful white haired woman smiled, her ruby red eyes sparkling with happiness and relief. She giggled at the memory of her husband’s cutely confused face when she met him. Really, the two of them were so cute with their cluelessness. She giggled again as she twirled in the field of flowers. 

Being a Lesser Grail was not the fate she would’ve chosen for herself, but it was worth it, if only because she had meddled with the final choice and her boys. She closed her eyes as she remembered her astonishment when she had seen the red thread binding the duo together. Even if she had been transformed into a chalice, she knew what was going on when the two clashed against each other in the final duel. The red thread had been dancing around the duo like a tiny banner, tied to their pinky fingers while they were fighting.

She remembered her horror when the dark entity within the Grail had tried to usurp her consciousness, to corrupt the process of wishing upon the holy chalice. 

No matter who would have won the wish about to be granted would only cause misery to all involved. She had been fighting the entity when the call of that fake Lesser Grail came, calling for Kirei, the strange energy already reaching to grab him, when she intervened. 

It took only a moment - a moment when she felt as if she would be shattered into prafactors with the effort required to man such an influx of energy - but she managed to create the temporary bridge between the two Grails, using their Command Seals to confuse the fake Lesser Grail into taking both of them and consequently forcibly shutting down the Grail War in Fuyuki, the part of the excess energy being funneled into making the duo younger. There couldn’t be Grail War if the last two masters were without their servants and commanding seals, anyway. So what if that burned out everything she got, including herself?

Kiritsugu was safe. And that was what mattered the most. She chuckled as she recalled his antics with Kirei. Or how embarrassed he was when she asked him when he would finally give in to Kirei. She never thought she would be acting as a love counselor, and giving advice to Kiritsugu - her, of all people! But it did happen, and she had to persuade the stubborn man to move forward. Even if his loyalty was commendable and she was flattered with his devotion to her, he was just silly with his blatant ignorance of feelings between him and Kirei. He had been so cute with all his hemming and hawing about honor and wanting to be faithful to her and Ilya, but she set the silly man to the rights with relative ease. And if that came with bonus of making him flush like cherry, while looking for all he was worth like a deer, caught in headlights, it had been all the better. 

She sobered for a moment when her thoughts wandered to Kirei. 

She didn’t blame the priest for killing her. It was war, plain and simple: besides, she already got her revenge in the shape of the poor man being Kiritsugu’s soul mate. Kiritsugu wasn’t the easiest man to live with, and she anticipated with gleeful - and a sadistic little giggle - how their next adventure would turn out. 

Score one for team Irisviel. 

Smiling, she closed her eyes as she enjoyed warm sun rays caressing her pale skin.

The future was bright.

* * *

 

**_/The END/_ **

**_**Notes**_ **

**_Baptism Rite (adapted from Fate/Zero)_ **

**_Kirei used this technique to completely destroy Voldemort. Why this technique and not Black Keys?_ **

**_Baptism Rite_ ** _ (jap. ‘Senrei eishou’) is considered as the magical miracle, and because it’s with accordance with the teachings of God, it’s basically the Church’s greatest weapon when it comes to destroying souls and spirits via the holy words of Bible. If you remember, Kirei had used it once before in this story, when he sent the Hogwarts’ ghosts to the other side (golden colored blades). As this works directly on the soul, no matter how broken it was, Kirei had in essence vanquished all of Voldemort, despite of his soul being in different receptacles (cup, lock, etc.). _

_ He didn’t use the chant in front of the kids because it was simpler that way, and the Wizards knew less about him needing a chant to activate that particular technique. For Voldemort, he used it because this was his way to directly finish him off, as he still had a grudge toward him for killing Kiritsugu.  _

_ Besides, ‘normal’ Black Keys have whitish- pale blue blades. Blades, which are conducts for the Baptism Rite, are whitish-golden in color. The latter is the ‘official’ color of the Rite, in original Fate/Zero the blades are not conductors for the Rite. _


End file.
